


The Story of Anakin Skywalker

by ceridwen_2020



Series: Rewriting the Prequel Trilogy [1]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Assassination, Autopsy, Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, Lightsaber Battles (Star Wars), Robbery, Space Battles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:01:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 81,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27329947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceridwen_2020/pseuds/ceridwen_2020
Summary: It is a time of growing dissent within the Republic, the loose system of Galactic star systems tied together for mutual benefit. Against growing calls for reform, a number of systems are falling under the sway of the increasingly belligerent Confederacy for the Liberation Of Non-major Entities (CLONE), joining together for protection against the dominant interests represented in the Senate. Their motives obscure, their leadership unknown, the CLONE are watched with baited breath against a backdrop of uncertainty from the Galaxy’s leaders.When Jedi Knight Ansuera Ban is found murdered on the dark and murky planet of Malastare, the Jedi Order, spiritual guide and defence for the thousands of systems that shelter under the Republic’s protection, are dragged into the political chaos. Two Jedi are entrusted with the mission to uncover the reasons for Ansuera Ban’s death, two Jedi who have proved themselves time and time again to be both loyal to the principles of the Order, Qui-Gon Jinn, a highly respected Jedi Master and his younger companion, Obi-wan Kenobi, the last Jedi to be trained by Master Yoda.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Siri Tachi, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Series: Rewriting the Prequel Trilogy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995421
Comments: 10
Kudos: 5





	1. Assignment on Tatooine

He is walking in the desert, parched and tired, oh so tired. Sand is everywhere, mile upon mile of featureless sand. His legs feel so heavy, as if weighed down by some burden.  
He knows what it is; he can feel the reason pressing upon his spirit.  
As he stumbles towards the distant haze, he sees someone, surrounded by a shimmering twisting veil of bright points, brighter than the blazing sun that saps his energy.  
A voice whispers - it must be!  
Then he knows it is the one he seeks. The Chosen One…  
But as he runs forward towards the figure, the sky fades to darkness, the bright points become millions of screaming voices and before he sees the face of their saviour he always wakes up...

Strong sunlight poured into the circular basin, illuminating the dirty plasteel of the cruiser. There was little activity; the heat of the day made that prohibitive. However, the ship was not silent for long and soon a ramp was lowering clumsily to the floor of the pit, its circuits straining noisily as two figures impatiently made their way down.  
Ducking under the low hull, Qui-Gon carefully scanned the immediate area. “That’s strange, there’s no one to meet us.”  
“They’ll be along soon,” his companion smoothed down the crumpled robe around his waist and made to follow the elder Jedi towards the exit at the far side.  
It was not long before a movement caught their eye. Entering from under a crumbling archway was a darkly clad figure, humanoid but where the bland, small features of a human might have been was instead a long greyish snout and two large, pupiless eyes. These alighted inquisitively on the two Jedi. “Greetings, friends.”  
“Hello,” replied Qui-Gon amiably, whilst Obi-wan just nodded. “I suspect you are the one we need to pay?”  
“I have heard much about Tatooine, Master, none of it favourable,” said Obi-wan, as Qui Gon finished paying their docking fee and smiled amiably at the port official. Of indeterminate age – at times he looked as though he might be anything between eighteen and thirty-five - there was much that was undetermined about Obi-wan. His hair was a curious mixture of hazel shades, inclining slightly towards red in some lights; the clarity of his green eyes was often tainted with scepticism. Nor did everyone regard his pale features as handsome but he had the peculiar charisma that the Jedi Knights had in abundance.This almost certainly came from their connection with the Force; it seemed to illuminate them from within. Obi-wan’s winsome humour and immense charm softened the less becoming aspects of his character. Still, his confidence at times was tinged with arrogance; his pride also could intrude upon his more noble feelings.  
“Most of the time I wouldn’t trouble myself to listen to gossip.” Somewhere in his late fifties, Qui-Gon Jinn was noticeably older than his companion, mostly because of the long beard he wore and his slightly more emaciated appearance. Years of privation had forced this upon him. “But where Tatooine is concerned we will find that much of what is said about it is true.”  
Obi-wan smiled; he knew he was privileged to have such a companion as Qui-Gon; he was recognised as one of the most brilliant Jedi, regarded by many as one of the finest to ever practice the mysterious arts taught at the Jedi Temple. He was not, however, one of the members of the Jedi Council. Too outspoken against the Council and its interpretation and direction of the Jedi Code, Qui-Gon was regarded as something of a maverick. Perhaps as a result of their close association, Obi-wan was similarly apt to be more reckless and impulsive than the Jedi Code allowed for when it was necessary. It made for a close, supportive relationship between the two Jedi. And although he did not always agree with his friend, Obi-wan regarded Qui-Gon as more. He was his inspiration.  
“Do you think we will find the answers we seek here, Master?”  
“I hope so,” remarked Qui-Gon as they approached the hangar exit, “for Ansuera’s sake.”

It was hard to disregard the place in which her body was kept, a starkly lit laboratory lined along each of the walls with thin, rectangular insets at regular intervals. Each hid a storage container, one designated for each body. Obi-wan’s nostrils first registered the sharp, musty smell as he followed his colleague and the white-dressed officials through the door and across to where neat type spelt out Ansuera Ban in the elegant script of the planet’s chief language. A code was entered; with a rush of pressure the container shot out of the wall. Its opaque nature showed the Jedi’s body lay inside, arms neatly folded over her chest.  
“Take as long as you need,” the official’s voice was as neat and clipped as his uniform, the rubber gloves quietly squeaking as he handed a pair to each of the Jedi. “Call us when you are ready to leave.”  
“Why, thank you.” Qui-Gon was always enormously polite in these situations.  
As the container’s lid slid back, the same sharp smell wafted into the room, almost causing both Jedi to gag.  
“What is it?” gasped Obi-wan, covering his mouth and nose.  
“Preservation fluid I imagine,” suggested Qui-Gon, briskly pulling on his gloves. They thwacked against his skin. “We knew this was not going to be a pleasant task.”  
Peering over the lip of the plastic coffin, the two Jedi encountered the corpse of Ansuera Ban staring back at them candidly. As part of the preservation process they had left her eyes open, the disconcerting grey-green orbs even more so when glazed over with the veil of death.  
“Oh really,” muttered Obi-wan, reaching over to smooth down the eyelids, “you’d think they’d have some respect.”  
“Don’t forget their customs are different from ours.” Seemingly oblivious to the overpowering smell or the eeriness of the corpse, Qui-Gon was already bending over the body, lifting aside clothes and examining cold limbs. “The Malastarians believe that you need your eyes open at the time of death in order to find your way to the underworld.”  
That was it, Qui-Gon was always a mine of information, “I never knew.”  
A cursory examination of the Jedi’s body revealed several tears in her clothing, the edges ragged and apparently burnt. Through the thick layers of dull coloured material probed Qui-gon’s efficient fingers, whilst Obi-wan watched, the acidic taste of anxiety burning upwards to his throat. He had a very bad feeling about what his mentor would find.  
Parting the final layer, Qui-Gon muttered something inaudible. “Here,” he gestured to Obi-wan, “see what you think of this.” Lifting the dark, thick curls that clustered around the corpse’s shoulders, Qui-Gon started to examine the Jedi’s neck more closely whilst Obi-wan made his way round to the left side of the examination bench. Immediately he could see the damage made to the Jedi’s chest. He noted the burn marks that grazed the ribs, the congealed blood where the weapon had penetrated the skin, a faint white gleam through the mess. As the smell became too much, Obi-wan forced himself to observe how the long, sharp slashes were not consistent with the wounds normally received as the result of blaster fire… he drew a sharp intake of breath.  
“Interesting, isn’t it?”  
“It’s more than interesting,” scoffed Obi-wan, covering the horrific sight. “Whoever killed her probably used a lightsaber.”  
Qui-Gon neglected to reply for a moment, intent on his own discovery. There was a small depression in the skin; around it the skin was raw and ragged, as if it had been eaten away.  
“I think the Council are going to be more than concerned about this,” went on the younger man, talking to alleviate his growing unease, “it’s enough with Master Syfo Dyas disappearing but if the Jedi sent to find him has been…”  
“Shush,” Qui-Gon finally straightened himself. “Those wounds are not enough to kill,” he said, ushering the younger Jedi over.  
“What do you mean?” Grumpily, Obi-wan peered over Qui-Gon’s shoulder. “The lightsaber penetrated to the bone, if the wound isn’t enough to kill the shock to the system would have been.”  
Qui-Gon pointed out the slight greenish tinge to the skin, the corrupted edges of the entry point no bigger than a pinprick. “This would have been made by a dart or arrow.”  
“Poison.” Obi-wan remembered seeing such wounds before.  
“Yes. I wager that this is the cause of death rather than a lightsaber.”  
“But why…?” he asked, waving his hand towards where the charred fabric lay crumpled.  
The elder Jedi replaced Ansuera’s head into its former position and smoothed down the ruffled curls before replying, “Perhaps we are meant to think that she was killed by a Jedi.”  
Obi-wan expelled his breath noisily, “Killed by Syfo-Dyas?”  
“Maybe,” Qui-Gon started to remove his gloves. “That last informer was close to telling us something, I’m sure of it. Ansuera goes to meet them and she ends up dead. It can’t be a coincidence, however much the Malastare government wishes us to believe it is.”  
“So where is this dart now?”  
Qui-Gon smiled toothily. “In the hands of our hosts, I expect. I think we should go and relieve them of it.”  
In the end, it took a great many hours of patient wrangling to eventually walk triumphant from the brutally efficient governing buildings of Malastare.

Leaving the spacious, if dusty, hangar behind them, the two Jedi found that the vista closed up into a narrow, twisting series of alleyways, all kinds of species and humanoids milling around, lounging about or on their way to somewhere. It took them a while to negotiate these streets; the two Jedi dressed as discreetly as possible, their destination the central hub of Mos Eisley, the largest collection of unimpressive buildings in the local area and therefore its unofficial capital. It was busy but then Mos Eisley was always busy almost as though it were a cover for the illicit activity that went on; anyone who spent long enough in the forsaken place was unlikely to forget it in a hurry.  
As they emerged into the bright, unforgiving sunlight that bleached everything beneath it into dazzling whiteness, Obi-wan leaned over to his companion. “Where are we going?”  
“To find Barass,” replied the Jedi, his furrowed brow at odds with the two bright eyes taking in the scene around them. “What is it Obi-wan? What is troubling you?”  
Blanching at his friend’s uncanny realisation of his feelings, Obi-wan shrugged, “I can’t shake the feeling that someone is following us.”  
“How long have you felt like this?” Qui-Gon’s eyes were still roaming the immediate area.  
“Since we left Malastare.” It had taken them time to convince the Malastarian government to allow them to take the dart for testing, time that was not to be wasted cutting through tortuous bureaucracy. But there was little else they could have done and a new sense of urgency gripped the younger Jedi, which he suspected was also reflected in his companion’s restlessness.  
“I see.” It was only then that Qui-Gon looked at him, his eyes now curious. “I must admit I don’t feel anything. Maybe time will reveal the source of your concern.”  
“Maybe,” echoed Obi-wan as his companion suddenly set off towards a collection of domed roofed adobes that looked more run-down than their considerably rundown neighbours. “Wait a minute, who’s Barass?” he said as he trotted after Qui-Gon.  
“Someone who should be able to help us with that dart,” grunted Qui-Gon, keeping a hold of the scarf he wore over the lower part of his face against the sun, only his bright eyes showing. “Barass used to be a bounty hunter so he should recognise the owner.”  
A while ago, Obi-wan would have questioned his reliance on more dubious sources of information but after a long exposure to such practices, he no longer batted an eyelid. Qui-Gon seemed to have established an infinite network of friends and associates across the Galaxy; his long periods of exile (much of them self-imposed) from the Jedi Temple taking him to many places that few other Jedi even imagined could exist.  
The two men hurried towards the most squalid looking of the three nearest huts, outside which two small children were playing around a busted droid. Dressed in miniature versions of the long, sun-repellent robes favoured by the adults, they barely looked up, so intent where they on their activity. Qui-Gon and Obi-wan had entered the hut before they even noticed their existence.  
Inside the unprepossessing interior was a surprise. Instead of the dark, gloomy pit that a cynical Obi-wan had envisaged was instead a light and airy antechamber, bright durasteel supports lining the dull clay of the arched roof.  
“Impressive.”  
Coming towards them was a young lady, her dark hair tightly braided to her head, dressed in a bright blue shift. She smiled when she saw the face under the scarf, “Qui-Gon, to what do we owe this pleasure?”  
“Hello Truva,” said Qui-Gon agreeably, shaking her hand, “you look well.”  
“Thank you,” she smiled broadly, looking with interest at his companion. Usually Qui-Gon came alone and she said so.  
"Today I have brought a friend,” said the Jedi nonchalantly, “this is Obi-wan.”  
“Pleased to meet you,” said the girl in a friendly manner, shaking his hand also. “Are you here to see my father?”  
“How did you guess?”  
“Why else would you come here, Mister Jinn,” sighed the girl, making eyes at Obi-wan, who looked away uncomfortably. “He’s out the back.” Before she took them through, she peered out the front door. “Cami, Tybu, come in will you?”  
Not wishing a scolding, the two children left their game reluctantly and came into the cool confines of the hut, at last giving their visitors more than a cursory glance. They were not interested for very long however, visitors a continual feature of the gregarious Barass, and they ran in front of their sister as she ushered the two men through the antechamber and out into a courtyard. Obviously the hut was much bigger than it appeared from the outside, a series of rooms branching off from a central courtyard, in which sprinkled a tiny fountain, the height of luxury on water-starved Tatooine. Raucous laughter could be heard coming from somewhere, but the rooms that led off the courtyard were tantalisingly hidden from view behind beaded curtains. The two children ran over to the fountain to splash themselves silly but Truva continued over to one of the curtains, more gaudy than the others and festooned with tiny mirrors to catch the light. Cautioning the two Jedi to wait, she opened the curtain and stepped inside the room, leaving them waiting outside in the courtyard.  
“Impressed are you?” Qui-Gon looked at his friend with amusement.  
“For once I am very impressed,” admitted Obi-wan, still looking about him in amazement. “It did not look much from the outside.”  
“You will learn that not everything does,” said Qui-Gon softly, “and that which is fair can hide a dark shadow within it.”  
The curtain rustled and opened again. It was Truva. “Father’s busy but he’ll see you.”  
“I should hope so,” muttered Obi-wan as they followed her into the stark chamber, empty except for a stone table in the centre and colourful tapestries on the walls, “considering the distance we have come.”  
If Qui-Gon heard his grumble, he didn’t register it. Instead he was heading over to an old, wrinkled crust of a humanoid, “Barass!”  
Leaning on his stick, the old man smiled broadly, “Qui-Gon!”  
They embraced quickly, and Barass looked at him in awe. “Every year I get older and you seem to get younger,” he exclaimed cheerfully.  
“I’m certain that is not true,” laughed Qui-Gon. As much as he was pleased to see his friend, his attention was drawn to the other person within the chamber, a thin dark-haired lady, plainly dressed but with kindly eyes. She was watching him closely, a faint expression of surprise on her face.  
Barass noticed his attention wandering, “Forgive me, I was in the middle of something. Shmi here was just collecting her master’s fee.”  
“It is us who intrudes upon you,” said Qui-Gin sagely, “we can wait until you are ready.” He guessed from the language used that Shmi was a slave; Tatooine was one of the planets outside the jurisdiction of the Republic and, as such, had not been forced to outlaw such outdated and demeaning practices.  
“We won’t be long, will we Shmi dear,” mumbled Barass in his thick accent, suggesting that the two were used to dealing with each other.  
“No, I shouldn’t think so,” replied Shmi, her accent marking her out immediately as a non-native. In fact even Qui-Gon couldn’t place her accent at all. “I think I have everything now.”  
“Tell Cleeg that he is welcome to pop by at any time,” smiled the old man fondly, “it has been a while since we have seen him here.”  
“The farm keeps him busy,” replied Shmi, casting a surreptitious glance at the Jedi, “that’s why he sends me.”  
“Of course, of course.” Handing her a small packet, Barass shook hands with her formally. “Well, it is a delight to see you Shmi, as always. Until the next season.”  
“Until then, Master Barass.” With a final glance at Qui-Gon, the quiet, modest lady left the chamber and disappeared behind the curtain to return to the courtyard.  
“Get them some refreshment Truva, don’t just stand there gawping.”  
As his daughter disappeared through yet another curtain, after pulling a face at him, Barass laughed and pointed the Jedi to several seats arranged a low table. “Let’s be civilised.”  
“Thank you,” the two Jedi gladly followed him.  
“What can I do for you two then?” asked Barass kindly, taking a seat next to the older of the two Jedi.  
“I’d like to know what this is,” Qui-Gon reached under his cape and pulled out a dart, handing it to his friend.  
“Oh, look at that,” muttered the old man with interest, turning the tiny object about in his fingers. It caught the light prettily, belying its more gruesome origins as a murder weapon. “I haven’t seen one of these in a long while. Where did you find this?”  
“It came from the neck of a Jedi knight,” replied Qui-Gon with such bluntness that Obi-wan glanced sharply at him.  
“Don’t worry,” chuckled Barass, seeing his expression, “I know that you are Jedi.”  
“Do you indeed,” replied Obi-wan, but he managed a smile.  
“Serious fellow, isn’t he,” remarked Barass to Qui-Gon.  
“One of us has to be,” he agreed, “anyway, about that dart.”  
“Oh yes,” Barass examined it closely, his watery blue eyes straining, “I’ll just get my magnification lenses.” Going over to a chaotic workbench, Barass pushed tools and spare bits and pieces aside until he found he was searching for. Placing the lens over his eye he examined the dart again. “A-huh… that’s interesting…”  
Obi-wan looked at Qui-Gon, “What’s he looking for?”  
“Maker’s marks.”  
Taking the lens away from his eye, Barass shuffled back over to the two Jedi, “This dart belongs to a Fett.”  
“A bounty hunter?” mused Qui-Gon. “Well that surprises me.”  
“The most famous.”  
“I’d say infamous,” corrected Obi-wan, flicking a curious insect away from his sleeve.  
“Now that Jango has taken control, yes.” Barass moved his leg into a more comfortable position, the joints were always giving him trouble.  
“When did Needan pass on?”  
“Couple of years ago,” said Barass, looking round as the beaded curtain tinkled and Truva re-entered with a tray of drinks and snacks. “There’s a rumour that Jango killed him.”  
“That doesn’t surprise me,” chuckled Obi-wan, the Fetts were as well-known for their inter-clan conflict as well as their utter ruthlessness.  
“But why would a bounty hunter kill a Jedi?” mused Qui-Gon as soon as Truva, still sulking at being made to fetch drinks, had gone. “I thought they usually steered clear of such jobs.”  
“You’re right,” grinned Barass, “it must have been a heck of a lot of money. No one’s gonna kill a Jedi without a good reason.” Sipping his drink he looked at Qui-Gon thoughtfully, “You got one?”  
“What?”  
“A reason.”  
“Not yet,” admitted Obi-wan, “but we have some ideas.”  
“Ansuera Ban was meeting a contact on Malastare when she was murdered,” explained Qui-Gon, “we found some documents on her which suggest she was investigating one of the crime syndicates operating out of the Anolite system.”  
“Sounds like she was killed because of what she found out,” said Barass matter-of-factly, “by that crime syndicate.”  
“That’s what we thought. But nothing adds up.” Qui-Gon frowned. “The evidence points to the syndicate run by Aaalay Sendi and they are hardly rich enough to afford the contract on a Jedi or be foolish enough to leave the evidence behind.”  
Barass laughed throatily, “You truly are wise, Qui-Gon. Yes, Sendi’s lot would not be so bold. Whoever killed this Jedi meant for you to find it.”  
“And others to find it,” muttered Obi-wan, “it was the government of Malastare who alerted us to the incident.”  
“Oh my,” Barass put his cup down. “That is not good.”  
“No it’s not,” Qui-Gon readily agreed, “The system is close to mutiny in the Senate and their opinion of the Jedi is already… at a low shall we say.”  
“Best thing to do would be to find this Jango Fett,” suggested Barass, “and ask him why he was given the assignment.”  
“Why do I get the feeling that none of that is remotely possible,” frowned Obi-wan.  
“Very perceptive,” nodded Qui-Gon, “Barass you know better.”  
“It was worth a try,” shrugged the old man, “Jedi are supposed to do the impossible aren’t they?”  
“We trust the Force to guide us,” was all Qui-Gon would say on the matter, “whether that allows the impossible is open to interpretation.” He accepted the tiny dart back from his friend, “Thank you Barass, you have been most helpful.”  
“Now he says I’m helpful,” sighed Barass, grinning at Obi-wan, “you’ll stay for a bit won’t you? Entertain an old man?”  
“How can we refuse?” Qui-Gon inclined his head gracefully, “actually I know a story that you would like. A funny thing happened to Obi-wan and I on Malastare…”  
Truva came back in when he was halfway through his story, hovering around the back of her father, who asked her irritably, “What is it Truva?”  
“I know something about the Fetts,” she smiled, “you might want to know about it.”  
“Have you been listening?” frowned Barass, turning his old body round with difficulty to face her, “I told you about that.”  
“It wasn’t my fault, you weren’t exactly keeping your voices down,” she pouted, taking a seat next to Obi-wan.  
“Tell us what you know, Truva,” said Qui-Gon placidly, noting with some amusement the close proximity of the girl to his friend.  
“I heard a rumour from Jarred who works in the cantina that one of the Fetts is working for the CLONE.”  
“The CLONE?” asked Obi-wan, suddenly more interested.  
“The Confederation for the Liberation of… of something or other,” replied Barass, looking to his daughter for help.  
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Jarred said that he’d overheard some bounty hunters talking about it. It was the largest amount any bounty hunter had ever been paid they said.”  
Obi-wan scratched his chin, “Why would a Fett be working for the CLONE?”  
“I don’t know, Jarred didn’t say.” Truva shrugged, “I can go back and ask him if you like?”  
“No, you know I don’t like you hanging round that cantina,” frowned Barass, “it’s full of no-good smugglers and bounty hunters...”  
“Just like you were once, father,” grinned Truva, ignoring his censure. Having delivered her message she picked up the empty glasses from the table, “Master Qui-Gon I imagine that if any Fett is to work with the CLONE it would be Jango. I hear he has no honour, unlike Needan.”  
“Do any bounty hunters have honour?” asked Obi-wan with some scepticism.  
Truva smiled at his blanket condemnation, “You’d be surprised Master Kenobi. Even the Republic has been known to utilise the services of bounty hunters in its history when the need occasioned.”  
“Indeed,” Obi-wan shook his head, knowing she told the truth. “You have a remarkable daughter, Barass.”  
“I know. She’s great isn’t she?” Barass grinned at his daughter, who poked her tongue out and left with the tray of empty glasses. “Takes after her mother of course.”  
“Where is Dervla?” asked Qui-Gon, referring to Barass’ fifth, and final, wife.  
“Sadly no longer with us,” Barass clasped his hands together in remembrance, “but a good woman whilst she lasted.” 

“I wish you hadn’t have told him that story about the mynocks, Master,” grumbled Obi-wan as they emerged again into the aching heat of the sunlight.  
“I think I did it justice,” smirked Qui-Gon, “don’t feel so uncomfortable, you are still learning Obi-wan.”  
“With respect Master I passed the trials ages ago…”  
“Don’t presume that because you have passed some tests you can stop learning,” cautioned Qui-Gon abruptly, revealing the sterner side to his character. “A Jedi should find wisdom everywhere and in everything whether we are five, fifty or five hundred. Complacency is the beginnings of arrogance.”  
“Forgive me, Master,” a chastened Obi-wan found the dusty walkway riveting.  
Not liking to admonish his friend, Qui-Gon squeezed Obi-wan’s shoulder, “I know you are sorry, that’s why I still have hope for you.”  
They walked further, more slowly now taking in the realisation that it was unlikely they could follow up their investigations. Taking on the Fett empire was not something to be taken lightly. They had decided it would be more prudent to journey back to Coruscant and inform the Council of their investigation so far.  
They had not made it far when a native of indeterminate origins barred their way, speaking rapidly in the local dialect. Qui-Gon listened for a moment then gently replied in the same language. “Come on,” he said to Obi-wan, nodding to the newcomer and heading off after him through the increasing crowds.  
“What is it?” demanded Obi-wan, jogging after him.  
“There’s a fight going on, he wants some help,” was all Qui-Gon would say.  
Reaching the open marketplace, they found the cause of the sentient’s distress. Two beings similar to the one gabbling to Qui-Gon, were holding off the attentions of two larger beings, Tarisians by the looks of it. To the right of them lay whom the sentient described excitedly as the cause of the fight, an unconscious female whom both Jedi recognised immediately. It was the slave who had been talking to Barass.  
Without a moment’s thought, or heeding Obi-wan’s warning, Qui-Gon pushed his way past the baying crowd that had gathered and waded straight into the fight. First he knocked the larger of the two antagonisers to the ground with a swift trip and a kick. The other Tarisian was likewise dealt with before he knew what was happening; finally the two attackers lay prone on the floor.  
Although impressed by the skill of the stranger, the crowd melted away; bloodthirsty, they were not stupid.  
Immediately Qui-Gon went over to the fallen woman, checking her for signs of life. Fortunately she was coming round and he smiled at her, “Are you alright?”  
“I think so.” Clutching her temple, Shmi sat up slowly with the help of Qui-Gon. Seeing the two Tarisians on the ground she frowned at him, “What happened?”  
“We were wondering the same thing,” said Obi-wan, who had joined them.  
“I was robbed,” said Shmi dismally. “They,” here she pointed to the two Tarisians lying out cold, “were trying to get the credits back from those who stole them.”  
“Oh I see.” Qui-Gon considered that maybe he had been a little too impulsive.  
“Then Master that means…” Feeling in his pockets Obi-wan realised that they too had been duped. “Oh dear. They took all my credits.”  
“Don’t fret Obi-wan, I have some left.” Qui-Gon helped Shmi to her feet.  
Despite the crack on her head and the loss of her credits, Shmi couldn’t help laughing at their predicament. “I didn’t think Jedi were so impetuous.”  
“Not usually.” It was a moment before Qui-Gon realised that at no time had she been told that they were Jedi. He looked at Obi-wan with some concern.  
“Oh,” Shmi clutched her head again as dizziness swept over her, swaying slightly.  
Taking her arm to steady her, Qui-Gon said kindly. “We better get you home.”

Sitting in the cooling shade of an awning, Quinlan Vos tried to sort out in his mind what had been going on since he had tracked Qui-Gon to Tatooine. So far the Jedi Master had been to visit a notorious ex-smuggler and bounty hunter. He had just participated in a fight to help a woman who had also been seen leaving the bounty hunter’s dwelling and was at that moment escorting her away. What was Qui-Gon up to? Downing his drink, Quinlan wrapped himself in his dark cloak and set off after the disappearing Jedi.

Home for Shmi turned out to be quite far from Mos Eisley, a farmstead on the fringes of the vast emptiness known as the Jungland Wastes. It was the property of Cleeg Lars, whom Shmi also belonged to; a modest home arranged around a circular courtyard cut deep into the rock that underlay the desert sands.  
It did not take them long to establish that Shmi was quite safe, her injuries were only superficial and a small quantity of bacta soon put her to rights. Before the Jedi were about to leave, Shmi asked that she might talk to Qui-Gon for a moment. Trusting that the Force had bought them there for a reason, he readily agreed, leaving Obi-wan in the kitchen with enough drinks and snacks to keep him happy, for there was something about Shmi that convinced him she was about to play a significant role in his existence.  
Together Qui-Gon and Shmi walked outside for a while in the courtyard. It had turned dark rapidly once the suns had sunk beneath the horizon. There was enough illumination from soft neon globes about the courtyard and the light that came from the wan moons that hung above them. As they walked, Qui-Gon encouraged Shmi to tell him about her life. There was not much to tell she told him, her only joy had been the birth of her son. Not only was he incredibly gifted, according to his mother, he had such an affinity with others that he was able to perceive their thoughts and feelings. He also had the fortitude of spirit to endure his life as a slave without complaint. Like his mother he had been a slave since he was born, his life predetermined within the same structures that had bound her to a cruel existence. Both of them had suffered at the hands of their former masters, the Hutts; the final indignity heaped upon them was when they had been separated and sold to different masters after the Hutt had lost countless credits gambling. To her consternation, her son had been sold again only two years later, bought by the CLONE and taken away from Tatooine altogether. It had been six years since she had last seen him. "He was only thirteen when they took him, he'll be nineteen or twenty now. On his way to becoming a man."  
For Qui-Gon this was another sign to lead him along his unknown path, “Tell me Shmi, what is your son’s name?”  
"Anakin Skywalker," she said proudly, gazing upwards at the twinkling orbs above them.  
“Very apt for a young man who is somewhere in the stars.”  
"I tried to do my best for him,” she murmured softly as if to herself, “but I could not prevent them taking him away. Cleeg would have bought him only the farm was doing badly that year, he could only afford me." She regarded the Jedi sadly, “I wish I knew where he was. Anything could have happened to him, I hear so many stories of the CLONE and their cruelty.”  
“But you know he’s alive, don’t you?”  
“Yes.” She looked at the Jedi shyly, “is it right to feel such things?”  
“The bond between a mother and her children is one which many seek to understand,” replied Qui-Gon, “but few can explain.”  
“I am so afraid for him,” she trailed off, horrible images crowding her mind.  
“You must trust that the Force will keep him safe. Tell me again about his gifts.” He looked at her, silently wondering at the story of this delicate, unassuming female. “You are Force sensitive yourself?”  
“I… I would not know.” Shmi shrugged.  
“But I can feel it,” Qui-Gon smiled at her. “You are very perceptive; you knew that I was searching for a young person gifted in the Force.”  
“Yes. I don’t know how but I knew.”  
He remembered the look she had given him when he had seen Barass, the uncanny look of familiarity. “You were waiting for us in the marketplace.”  
“Yes.” She looked away, still ashamed that she had to rely on Qui-Gon to replace the missing credits which he had given so freely, “but what I have is nothing compared to Anakin’s gifts.”  
“Tell me.”  
“I always knew he was different somehow. He saw things before others did. When he was small he used to tell me about his dreams.” She smiled knowingly, “So many of them came true.”  
“The Force can impart many things to us,” agreed Qui-Gon, “what of his character?”  
“He was always such a good little boy,” said Shmi, the fond memories already crystallised solidly in her mind, “he is kind and thoughtful… always curious, and he always gives his heart to everything he does and to everyone he meets.”  
Allowing for an affectionate mother’s hyperbole, Qui-Gon said warmly, “It is no wonder you miss him so much.”  
“For a long time he was the only thing that made my life worth living.” She looked away, up towards the hazy smear of stars. “Do you think his gifts could really come from the Force?”  
“It sounds possible. Of course, the Jedi order have tests for this kind of thing to be certain.”  
“Tests?” echoed Shmi faintly.  
“Yes. For example, a recent Jedi scientist has claimed that the number of midichlorians found in someone’s blood can provide an indication of that individual’s strength in the Force.”  
“I see.”  
There was still one question that preyed on the Jedi’s mind. “I hope you don’t mind me asking,” said Qui-Gon delicately, feeling a slight breeze ruffle his tunic. The wind was getting up as the warmth from the land drifted away in the cold air. “But who was Anakin's father?”  
“His father?” Shmi looked away, her cheeks reddening, a faint flicker of pain in her eyes. “There was no father.”  
Suspecting that there was more to the story than Shmi was prepared to tell but having no wish to upset her, Qui-Gon placed a hand on her arm, “Forgive me, I did not mean to intrude.”  
It was all Shmi would say, her eyes betraying something of the uncertainty she had buried deep within her. “It has only ever been us two.”  
“I understand.”  
She turned her eyes upon him, the crystal clear irises as though illuminated from within. She knew he would understand. He would find a meaning where none had been found before. “You will find him for me?” She gripped his arm suddenly, “Please, find him for me.”

“Are you really going to look for this woman’s son?” asked Obi-wan as the two Jedi shared a rare moment of relaxation on their bunks on the long return trip to Coruscant. “On account of a chance meeting?”  
“If I can but it may well be that he will find us.” Qui-Gon was used to encountering scepticism. It was the occupational hazard of being a maverick. “If what Shmi Skywalker tells me about her son is true, he will be a very gifted young man. It seems more than a coincidence that my dreams through the Force point to the finding of the Chosen One in the desert.”  
“Are you sure it was not just the exaggerations of a fond mother?” grinned Obi-wan, lying on his back. The white plastic of the ceiling was not interesting to look at but instead he was imagining the affronted expression on his companion’s face. “Or it could be a trick of the dark side.”  
“It may well be.” Qui-Gon closed his eyes. “But unlike you I prefer to retain an open mind.”  
“I am only surprised that is all,” continued Obi-wan, “after all the trouble you got into last time with the Council for pursuing contrary aims to theirs.”  
“It is not a contrary aim,” said Qui-Gon patiently. There had been much written in Jedi prophecy concerning the finding of a Jedi who was strong enough in the Force to bring balance to the light and dark sides. For thousands of years, few Jedi had been able to successfully balance the two competing sides of the Force; they were usually consumed by the seductions of the dark side. It was believed such a being would have to be born of the Force itself. “The Council are as determined to find the Chosen One as I am.”  
“I believed that the prophecy had been explained as a metaphor, rather than an exact occurrence,” pointed out Obi-wan, scratching his arm thoughtfully.  
The prophecy told the coming of a Jedi who would bring balance to the Force. It was an ancient fragment, far more ancient than the Republic and it’s meaning had been embellished, re-interpreted and interrogated over the thousands of years that the Jedi had existed. The defeat of the Dark Jedi and the disappearance of the Sith had seemed to have negated the existence of the prophecy but the interest it created had endured. Jedi scholars told of a powerful and wise Jedi who could command the deepest mysteries of the Force, bringing balance and purity. Yet there was mingled with respect for the prophecy an oblique scepticism. It was merely a metaphor for the eventual triumph of the light side, not a truth as such, and opinion continued to be divided.  
“It goes in fashions,” snorted Qui-Gon, lying perfectly still. “But if you believe the greatest of the Jedi prophets, Hennen Gundral, the conditions into which this individual with great power are to be found will be at a time of peace rather than a time of woe.”  
“But surely the finding of the Chosen One proceeds a time of woe, Master,” pointed out Obi-wan, “as they used to make us sing, The sky cries out and the stars will fall, the darkness will dissolve them all,” he sang with relish, “only one the light and darkness wield, only one to save us is revealed.”  
“That’s one way of memorising it,” chuckled Qui-Gon, opening his eyes to look at his friend, “remember that from your early training do you?”  
“I will never forget Master Yoda’s rendition,” sighed Obi-wan, memories of his younger days flooding back. “It was something to behold.”  
“Well I suggest you recall it with your eyes closed, we should not squander this opportunity to sleep,” yawned Qui-Gon, turning onto his side. It was not by anyone’s standards a comfortable bunk. “We need to have our wits about us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this trilogy just after the release of Revenge of the Sith so going back a few years now. I think George Lucas did something really interesting with the Prequel Trilogy, introducing us to Anakin Skywalker as a troubled, vulnerable and conflicted young man (which interestingly led to the same heated discussions in fandom as Kylo Ren / Ben Solo now receives), the decline of the Jedi Order, and the slow manipulation of the Republic into an Empire. I had some issues with the execution which is why I wanted to write my own version, starting with the premise that Anakin is a teenager when Qui-Gon and Obi-wan first meet him. Also I thought that the introduction of Count Dooku and General Grievous should have been earlier, increasing suspense as to the identity of the villain behind everything.


	2. An underrated menace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gonn and Obi-wan return to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant to report to the Council their findings about the role of the bounty hunter, Jango Fett, in the death of Ansuera Ban only to find he is also implicated in the assassination of a Senator. Before they can investigate further, Naboo is blockaded by the mysterious CLONE, and the two Jedi are sent to start negotiations for the cessation of the blockade.

“We’re coming up on Naboo, Captain.” Mido Hunn, pilot of the bulk cruiser Broken Heart, flicked the switches that would take them out of the tedious monotony of hyperspace and back into the familiar reaches of real space.  
“Excellent.” Corsaysee came over to stand behind the pilot’s seat. Beneath her close fitting cap, her tanned face was watchful, the startling blue eyes a mirror for a cold and effective manner. “Our shipment might actually be delivered this time.” With all the pirate and smuggler activity that was growing in the Core Territories it was beginning increasingly difficult for legitimate traders like the Broken Heart to undertake lengthy journeys without running the risk of being boarded or attacked. They had been stung a few times now and their boss was growing impatient.  
“I told you we’d be alright,” crowed the russet-haired pilot with a board grin; despite her reserved manner he enjoyed an easy relationship with his Captain (and many cruel whispers suggested that their relationship went beyond more than mere banter). “Thanks to this baby.” He patted the ship affectionately.  
“Since you spend more time on this ship than anything else,” muttered Captain Corsaysee, “it should be the best ship in the fleet by default.”  
Easing the controls, Mido watched with satisfaction as the familiar streaks of starlight began to slow down. “Are you suggesting that I’ve been neglecting you, honey?”  
“Just fly this thing will you,” said Corsaysee tersely, in no mood for banter. There could still be a nasty surprise waiting for them and she was not letting her guard down.  
The ship rattled as the powerful hyperdrive engines relinquished their power. “Switching to sublight engines,” informed the co-pilot helpfully.  
As the usual dark spangled backdrop appeared, the planet of Naboo came into view; a twinkling jewel of a planet, green and blue indicating the lushness of its vegetation and the proliferation of its waters. Yet something was not right.  
Mido Hunn looked at the scanner critically. “Looks like we’ve got company.”  
“Try and establish a connection, it might be another trader,” said Corsaysee, trying to subdue her fears that it might be a pirate.  
“I can’t get a signal,” replied the pilot. He was concerned that the ship was heading straight towards them. Normally by that time a friendly ship would have established contact. Whatever was heading towards them was seemingly in an enormous hurry.  
“What can they want?” worried the Captain, it seemed her worst fears were coming true. “Keep your distance, Captain. We can’t afford to lose everything to pirates.”  
“Pirates would never come this close to Naboo, they wouldn’t dare,” stated the pilot matter of factly, “they must have a bad communicator or something, it’ll be fine. You’ll see.”  
Whoever was flying the massive ship made their intentions more clear when suddenly a barrage of laser fire was loosed over the hull of the Broken Heart.  
“Holy moley,” gasped the pilot, seeing how wrong he was and hurriedly throwing the ship into reverse, “Quickly! Turn this baby around!”  
“Overruled,” said the Captain firmly, “We will maintain our present course.”  
“Are you crazy?” asked the pilot, whilst the co-pilot seriously began to consider grabbing one of the escape pods before it was too late.  
“What kind of message would we send these idiots by running away at the first sign of aggression? I’m not going to be dictated to.” Nervously she clutched the back of the seat, straining to see the damage reports, silently praying that they would only take the shipment and not their lives. “Open communications, Captain.”  
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” But Mido complied.  
Leaning over the console, Corsaysee noticed that where the ID of the ship should appear, the monitor was disturbingly empty. “Unknown ship, please declare your reasons for attacking us without provocation,” she barked into the transmitter unwilling to be nice about the situation they had been plunged into.  
This time there was a burst of static, then an ominous voice filled the cockpit, “Cruiser Broken Heart we request that you immediately leave this system. If you do not comply we will be compelled to destroy you.”  
Frightened and affronted, the Captain became angry, she had never encountered such arrogance, “And who are you to demand this of us? We have a very important shipment to deliver and we are damned if we are going to let you dictate to us what we can and can’t do!”  
“Captain we are warning you,” continued the voice, low and menacing, “if you turn around now we will allow you to return unharmed but if you insist on continuing through this restricted area we promise you that we will carry out our intentions.”  
If Corsaysee’s head had been hurting previously, it throbbed with renewed intensity now. All this talk of restricted space, destruction and warnings was completely unexpected. “On whose authority are you demanding this? The sovereignty of Naboo?”  
“Soon there will be a new sovereignty of Naboo.” The voice chuckled, followed by a slight wheezing as the speaker seemed to lose control of their breathing for a moment.  
“Who do you think it is?” asked the pilot, as puzzled as Corsaysee.  
“I don’t know,” frowned the Captain, “but I’m not letting them intimidate us, we have to deliver this shipment.” Determined to fulfil their mandate, she ordered the pilot to approach the planet. Directing her voice towards the transmitter, she continued, “Whoever you are, we will not succumb to your threats. You have no authority to prevent us from trading with a member system of the Republic and if you try to prevent us further we will ensure that this matter is pursued rigorously.”  
Another chuckle, “You choose to go against our wishes. You would have done well to have listened to us.”  
The transmitter went dead.  
“I have a bad feeling about this,” commented Mido, for once his confidence had deserted him. Although the cruiser had started to move away from them he knew they were sailing into a trap, “I don’t think…”  
“It is not your duty to think, Hunn,” snapped the Captain, beyond all argument now, “proceed on our course.”  
“But…”  
“No questions! Proceed!” For a moment, she felt she could relax. They were heading towards Naboo, the expected threat had not materialised. The planet loomed larger in their scopes…  
It was then that they were hit from behind.  
“Fighters, incoming!” yelled Mido Hunn, looking in alarm at the monitor which now registered several of the larger ships, “Where the hell did they come from?”  
“Transfer all power to the shields,” demanded the Captain, gripping the seat so tightly her tanned knuckles went white.  
With few weapons and a continual barrage of fire that quickly surrounded them in its hot embrace, it was not long before the cruiser was at the mercy of its mysterious opponents. Once its defences were vanquished, the ship crumpled as quickly as it might have been made of plastic, huge gaping holes were ripped in its sides, its vital guts spilling out into the depths of space until eventually, limping and broken, it spiralled downwards.

Inside the ship there was chaos. Corsaysee screamed as she hit the deck, already Hunn was dead and she could feel the warmth of her own blood as it washed into her mouth, choking her. It would not be long until she joined him. Darkness was coming… she tried to fight it, to speak, to cry out, to beg for forgiveness for her decision. But even if she could speak there would have been no one to hear her.  


“Ready?”  
“Of course.” Obi-wan raised his lightsaber into the gracious opening position of one who practiced Ataru, fixing his opponent with a steely glare.  
His female opponent, Siri Tachi, laughed at his expression, “Are you trying to intimidate me Obi-wan?” Slightly older than he, Siri liked to think that she was more patient and more forgiving than her comrade but her gentle exterior only served to hide her talents of a cunning warrior. Her skills in lightsaber fighting, which some considered an intuitive and natural ability, made her an obvious choice as swords-master at the Temple. As a warrior she could be ferocious rather than even-tempered, she could be ruthless rather than peacemaker, impulsive when she needed to be careful, but above all she was, like Obi-wan, steadfastly loyal to her duty as a Jedi, and to the Republic which they served.  
“It obviously hasn’t worked then,” grunted Obi-wan, maintaining his position. “Well, are we going to practice or are you going to stand there and tease me?”  
Adopting a more suitably serious expression, Siri raised her own weapon in the classic Djem So attack pose, “Sometimes Obi-wan,” she said as the fight began and the lightsabers crashed together with their peculiar hum of energy, “you can be so dull.”  
“Why?” questioned Obi-wan, lithely parrying her attack, “because I don’t always enjoy to be teased?”  
“No,” rejoined Siri, spinning gracefully to intercept a rather clumsy blow, “because you can’t always take a joke. You always have to be so serious.”  
“Being a Jedi is a serious business,” frowned Obi-wan as he leapt backwards to avoid the deadly sweep of her lightsaber.  
“So we can’t have any fun?”  
They were very close now, pushing their crackling blades against each other, close enough to share an intimate glance, green eyes met deep blue eyes in a way that suggested there was more to their relationship than they would admit.  
“No,” said Obi-wan, a touch sternly.  
“You’re right. We must deny ourselves so much,” sighed Siri, pulling back as the intensity of his gaze became too much for her. Switching off her lightsaber, she ran her hands through her hair; cropped close to her head, she had preferred to keep the traditional style of a padawan even though she had long since passed the trails that had conferred upon her the status of knight. “I think you’re improving Obi-wan,” she said lightly, “see, I’m even slightly out of breath.”  
“I haven’t even started yet,” replied Obi-wan, pretending to be more interested in his lightsaber construction but really he was watching her surreptitiously.  
“Shall we have another bout?” Siri noticed his sly glances and decided that more activity was necessary to distract him.  
“Good idea.”  
They had only just adopted their positions when the door to the practice room slid open and Qui-Gon Jinn strode in purposefully.  
“There you are, Obi-wan,” he said pleasantly, smiling at the two Jedi. “Siri, I hope you are putting him through his paces?”  
“Not nearly enough,” replied the young lady, relaxing her shoulders, “but as I said to Obi-wan, I think he’s improving.”  
“Excellent,” smiled Qui-Gon, “coming from you, Siri, that is worthy praise indeed.”  
“Maybe it is time then that I start to practice with a master of the lightsaber,” remarked Obi-wan with a sly twinkle in his eye.  
Siri smiled tortuously, “See how ungrateful are those that you support and nurture?”  
“Something that you must get used to, young Siri, as I have,” replied Qui-Gon. “Anyway,” he continued, “as much as I like to stand about chatting you must come with me to the Council chamber immediately. They have summoned us.”  
“Of course, Master,” nodded the younger Jedi. Turning to Siri he smiled apologetically, “We’ll have to continue this later.”  
“Yes,” she knew as well as he did the pre-eminence of a summons from the Jedi Council, “I hope it is good news.”  
“So do I,” agreed Obi-wan, regarding her perhaps a touch too long.  
“You better go,” smiled Siri, keeping her eyes fixed on his face. She was also enmeshed in the feelings that pinned them together; “Qui-Gon’s already out the door.”  
“Oh, yes,” she was right; Qui-Gon had already disappeared into the corridor. “Goodbye.” With difficulty he tore himself away and hurried out the practice room and after his Master.  
The room now quiet and empty, Siri stood for a moment trying to make sense of the emotions fluttering within her heart. Get a grip, she admonished herself. There were plenty of male Jedi, of many different species and character and personality resident at the Temple; so why was there only one that could spark her interest in ways which were forbidden?

Reaching the Jedi Council chamber, Qui-Gon and Obi-wan hurried to the centre of the circular room, its huge windows affording a spectacular view out across the city of Coruscant. Outside, the daily traffic streams could be seen piling up the air routes, flowing smoothly round the huge towers and grandiose buildings of the Senate and its associated offices. It was a stark contrast to the peace and serenity of the Jedi chamber. The twelve members of the Council were sat around the chamber with the windows behind them, perched on plush red seats. In the very middle had once sat the venerable and wise Master Yoda, the mysterious 870-year-old Jedi Master of indeterminate origin who had been training Jedi for most of his very long life. Now the more outspoken and less world-weary Mace Windu had taken his place. Other members of the Council present in person included Count Dooku, a stately and idealistic elder Jedi from the Serrano system, a close associate of Qui-Gon, and Ki ali mundi, one of the more conservative forces on the Council but well known and respected for his devotion to duty. Those Jedi on active duty were represented by holograms that flickered and buzzed as the signals crossed the depths of space.  
It was to Mace Windu that Qui-Gon bowed reverently, across the wooden floor, worn smooth by countless Jedi pacing.  
“Qui-Gon, we wonder if you are familiar with the Anolite system?”  
“I am, Master Windu.” It was in reality a rhetorical question.  
“Senator Gugh Reen has been assassinated,” continued Windu, looking around at the assembled Jedi gravely. “Quinlan Vos managed to wrangle this information out of the bounty hunter who was paid substantial sums to dispatch him.”  
“Who is…?”  
“Jango Fett.”  
Qui-Gon looked at Obi-wan meaningfully. “We think he is also implicated in the murder of Ansuera Ban.”  
“Yes, we have our doubts that the Sendi syndicate is behind these assassinations,” said Obi-wan, incredulous that they had sent the unstable, and contradictory, Vos on such a delicate assignment. How come he managed to get Fett to speak? he thought silently to himself, wondering if Vos had used some of his infamously underhand methods.  
“That is why Vos has been sent to find out as much as he can,” said Ki ali mundi, aware that the choice of Vos would be a controversial decision. “But so far we cannot pin the death of Ansuera to the Fetts. They claim to have nothing to do with it.”  
“With respect, Master, we believe the link to the bounty hunter is a diversion,” said Qui-Gon evenly. “Only a larger organisation would afford to pay a bounty hunter enough to encourage him to target Jedi Knights and Senators.”  
“What are your thoughts, Qui-Gon?” Mace looked at him with interest.  
“As yet we have no evidence but we increasingly believe that the CLONE is behind these murders.”  
“The CLONE?” Most of the Council looked at him incredulously. “But the CLONE is nothing more than a protective lobby for smaller systems,” pointed out Ki ali mundi.  
“The CLONE claim to be protecting the interests of those who feel threatened by the push for reforms in the Senate,” rejoined Obi-wan, “but we have been studying their actions and their definition of protection is not so far away from the Republic’s definition of invasion.”  
“The intelligence we gathered suggests that the CLONE was founded because of the apparent breakdown they perceive in the Republic’s function,” added Qui-Gon. “They intend to offer an alternative form of protection.”  
“Senator Reen was certainly one of the senators who supported the recent demand for reform,” said Mace Windu thoughtfully, “and there are several systems who are vocal in their resistance. They may believe that aggression will force the Senate to back down.”  
“They needn’t worry,” frowned Obi-wan, “it takes an inordinate amount of time to pass anything through the Senate these days so it is unlikely these reforms will come to pass.”  
“Then they may have other motives,” remarked Plo Keen, his breathing equipment hissing slightly as he spoke, “motives which we have not yet discovered.”  
“That is in all likelihood correct,” agreed Qui-Gon, “however they represent a growing problem. Most of the systems that the CLONE have approached have, how shall I put this, accepted their overtures.”  
“Willingly or unwillingly?” inquired Master Dooku, his strident tones ringing out across the peaceful chamber.  
“Depends upon your definition.”  
“To be sure,” Dooku had a voice that could not be ignored; a voice that could command loyalty.  
“Then we must seek more enlightenment regarding the aims of the CLONE,” suggested Mace Windu, rising from his seat, “Qui-Gon, I suggest we arrange a meeting with the Chancellor to discuss the implications of your investigation. Until next we meet, Council is adjourned.”

Later that evening, whilst Obi-wan retired to his chambers for the night, Qui-Gon went for a walk along the Temple’s outside terrace with his old friend, Count Dooku. A scion of an aristocratic household, Dooku was tall and stately, his robes obviously more costly than those favoured by his colleagues, finer in detail and softer in texture. He firmly believed that the Jedi Knights should be of the world, and he was not one to endure unnecessary privations for the sake of aestheticism. Whilst this set him apart from Jedi Masters such as Qui-Gon in both look and manner, they both shared a common commitment to the ideals of the Jedi Order.  
“It is good to see you again, my friend,” said Dooku warmly as they stopped to regard the lights of the teeming city. “With Master Yoda gone there are fewer of us older Jedi left here.”  
“Our numbers are certainly dwindling,” remarked Qui-Gon. There was expectancy on the air as if Dooku was covering his real intentions with superficial commentary.  
“Sometimes I wonder what is happening to the Order,” Dooku spoke softly, “there is much hesitation of late. Once we were answerable only to the Chancellor but with the growth in the power of the Senate we find ourselves taking a back seat to their demands.”  
Qui-Gon knew he had to be careful. There was much he chafed against in terms of the rigidity of the Council, their reactionary approach and their overtures to the Senate, but he also knew that he was less knowledgeable about the situation on Coruscant. As with most Jedi of an evangelical bent (although Qui-Gon did not directly associate with the growing sect within the Temple), his mind was rarely on the dictates of politics, feeling that the will of the Force came above material matters.  
“And there has been growing opposition towards us, Qui-Gon.” Dooku sighed, leaning against the sturdy balustrade, “there have been calls for the formation of a larger Republic army. The Galaxy increasingly regards us a dying force, unable to fulfil our function.”  
“This opinion has been growing over a long time,” commented Qui-Gon watching the traffic moving sluggishly below them, “it is hard to deny that in remoter regions of the Republic our role has all but been forgotten.”  
“I wish it were not so,” murmured Dooku, tracing his finger along one of the elaborate stone carvings of the balcony, “yet the majority of the Council do not seem unduly concerned. And if the Evangelicals have their way, we shall even less responsibility to the Republic,” he continued, a new note of sarcasm tinging his dialect, “we shall spend all our days sat on our backsides in communion with the Force.”  
“I agree with you in some respects,” Qui-Gon remarked, struck by the vehemence of his words, “if these moves by the CLONE are anything to go by we will need to take a greater interest in the Republic. But I am certain that the Council are taking that into account, even if there is as yet no solution.”  
Dooku lowered his eyes; clearly Qui-Gon was still determined to defend the Council no matter that they treated him as a dangerous radical. “You are right, my friend, as always. Please forgive an old and tired Jedi who should have retired long ago.”  
“Nonsense,” Qui-Gon smiled at his former Master, “I hear that you have taken on two new students.” The recent deaths of two Jedi Masters had necessitated the exchange.  
“It seemed the proper thing to do.” They started to head back towards the Temple, “After all I had no students of mine own.”  
“They would have been glad to know that their students were in such capable hands,” agreed Qui-Gon, smiling sadly, remembering the two comrades they had lost.  
“I am surprised the Council has not found you a new student,” Dooku held his hands behind his back as they walked, the fingers clasped tightly together, “as Obi-wan will surely be ready to train a student of his own soon.”  
“I desire no student chosen by the Council,” replied Qui-Gon, his eyes shining with sudden fervour. “I will seek mine out.”  
“I suppose you mean the Chosen One?” As a member of the Council, Dooku was well acquainted with the revelations experienced by Qui-Gon.  
“The time is near,” said Qui-Gon quietly, “I feel the Force is bringing me closer with every moment to the one I seek.”  
“And you think the Council will allow you to train them without interference?”  
Qui-Gon looked at him sharply, “Have they said as much?”  
“Not directly,” he paused and placed his aged hand on his friend’s rough-clad arm, “Qui-Gon, heed me. If you were to find the Chosen One, I beg you, do not bring him to Coruscant. I fear… I fear the training here would stifle a true child of the Force.”  
“I heed your concerns my friend, only-” there were hidden depths to Dooku’s disillusionment that could only be speculated and Qui-Gon regarded his friend with some concern.  
“Train him… or her in secret,” continued Dooku, his stern eyes suddenly infused with fervour, “away from the corruption and confusion that threatens to suffocate our ideals in its cold, selfish grasp.” There was silence as Dooku’s words died away on the chill of the night air.  
“Do the Council know of your… concerns?”  
Meeting the searching gaze of his former pupil, Dooku said slowly, “I have voiced them as much as I can. However, as you well know yourself, whether there is a sympathetic ear is a different matter altogether.”  
“I understand your point,” said Qui-Gon carefully, “however, even with my own track record I do not believe the Council consciously seek to disregard the ideals which we all serve. You are grown very critical, my friend.”  
“It is not the Council which I refer to,” muttered Dooku, obviously chastened by his words. However, as much as Qui-Gon tried, he could not encourage his friend to tell him of whom he meant. “You will find out soon enough,” was all the older man would say, “There are many things I do not agree with that are happening in Coruscant and my own dark dreams point to the futility of optimism.”  
“The Force will guide us,” said Qui-Gon simply, thinking his friend must be under a great deal of strain which enforced such bleakness on his mind. “We must put our faith in it.”  
“You are right,” agreed Dooku, the severity in his expression relaxing. “I need to leave here, I think, the crowded city only stifles the ability to meditate.” Suddenly the old Jedi looked very tired.  
As they returned to their Temple quarters, the two old friends spoke of lighter things, and did not touch again upon the issue. However Qui-Gon for a long time after mulled over the possible reasons for why his comrade was so disillusioned with the actions of the Jedi Council and the mysterious corruption to which he referred. Dooku was not inclined to make such sweeping judgments without substance. But for the moment it would have to remain an intriguing puzzle.

The door to the meditation chamber opened and Master Windu walked in to find Qui-Gon and Obi-wan locked in a discussion with Dooku and Ki ali mundi. He had hoped to find them together.  
As he took a seat, Dooku saw his concern, “Something has happened?”  
“I have just received word that there has come to the attention of the Senate a most interesting problem concerning the system known as Naboo. The system has been placed under a blockade,” said Mace Windu, “we believe by the CLONE.”  
“So they are finally playing their hand.” Qui-Gon looked meaningfully at Obi-wan.  
“What is the cause of the dispute?” asked Dooku.  
“It has been going on for a while,” said Mace, shifting on the cushion, “ever since the last Queen of the Naboo died. She left no heir and the Naboo elected their next Queen as ancient rights dictate, choosing the very young Queen Amidala.”  
“A situation that split the populace of the system I believe.”  
“Indeed it did,” agreed Mace readily. “But the most vociferous complaints came from the Viceroy of the Hunnite system, Nute Gunray. They claim to have an ancient agreement with the Naboo that if the sovereignty is disrupted, a member of the Hunnite clan must participate in the election as a neutral observer. Because the Hunnites were not involved, they demand that the election must be dissolved and retaken.” The principle had been abolished in the reign of Queen Stela over a hundred years previously, but of course that had never been accepted by the proud and rapacious Hunnite nation.  
“Which I imagine Naboo will not assent to,” divined Dooku in his rich, sonorous voice.  
“You are correct, my old friend, and it appears the Hunnites are using this claim as an excuse to assert their control over Naboo. Although they declare no connection with the CLONE, we have evidence that the leader of the CLONE armies, General Junwal Grievous, is overseeing a blockade of the planet.”  
“A blockade?”  
“They have been attacking all ships that enter the system,” explained Mace Windu, “Reports say that nothing can get in or out of Naboo.”  
“So much for the offer of protection,” murmured Qui-Gon.  
“Why is Naboo attracting so much attention?” wondered Obi-wan. As far as he knew, the pacifistic planet of Naboo - famed for its rich culture and gorgeous scenery, as enthusiastically promoted by the Nabooian Ministry for Intergalactic Tourism, and its status as a favourite holiday destination for the gentiles of Coruscant - was not a focus for dissent and opposition.  
“It cannot be a coincidence that, along with Senator Reen, Senator Palpatine of Naboo has been particularly vociferous in his support for the reforms currently sweeping the Senate,” explained Mace. “Reforms that will attempt to alleviate the attractions of the CLONE. That is the only conclusion that we can reach based on our current intelligence.”  
“How will the Senate respond to this situation?” remarked Qui-Gon. “I should think that Naboo needs our support…”  
“There will be no aggression from the Republic on this matter,” said Mace Windu sternly. “Supreme Chancellor Valorum has opened negotiations in order to end this matter peacefully. The Hunnites have agreed to negotiate. However, they have demanded that the negotiations must be conducted by a Jedi.”  
“Whatever for?” asked Dooku, folding his hands into his lap, “the Republic has plenty of trained negotiators available.”  
“I believe our neutrality is the essence here,” said Master Windu, turning to the Count, “we may represent the Republic but we are not tainted by the politics of the Senate or the Executive.”  
“Then if the Council agrees to the demands, who shall be sent?”  
“There is not time to convene the full Council,” Mace continued, “the CLONE have sent a time limit of 1400 hours. However, because of your recent experiences, Qui-Gon and Obi-wan are in my opinion more than suitable to fulfil this mission.”  
Immediately there were murmurings of assent from both Kil ali mundi and Count Dooku.  
“We are both very honoured,” said Qui-Gon politely, “to be chosen for this… dangerous mission.” He was under no illusions that the request of the CLONE would be for very specific reasons.  
“I am sure that I do not need tell you,” said Mace lightly, “that the Ruling Council of Naboo is not to be drawn into any unnecessary conflict.”  
“Yes Master Windu, that would be our preference.”  
“We do not want a repeat of the situation on Cato Plaxus.”  
“No, Master, I will be mindful,” said Qui-Gon, catching the amusement in Windu’s eyes. “When do we depart?”  
“A ship is being prepared for you,” said Master Windu, “so that you can leave in the next hour.”


	3. Never trust the CLONE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-wan and Qui-Gonn arrive at the CLONE ship to begin the negotiations to free Naboo from their influence. When the meeting turns sour, a young slave helps the two Jedi to escape. A young man by the name of Anakin Skywalker. When their escape pod crash lands on Naboo, the Jedi, and Anakin, find themselves drawn into the escape plans of the young, and strong-willed, Queen Amidala.

“We have reached the system, Master Qui-Gon,” said Captain Jeena, calling the two Jedi over to the console. The Republic cruiser, Bravery, had come out of hyperspace close to the CLONE fleet, a motley collection of ships hovering over the green, jewel like planet of Naboo like a cunning predator eyeing its more vulnerable prey.  
Jeena opened the comlink. “Executor this is Republic Bravery do you copy?”  
“Receiving you, Bravery,” replied a tiny hologram, which had appeared on the console. The contact was a member of the Neimoidian species, his voice soft and inviting. Around his neck was an elaborate collar, suggesting that he was either a slave or someone of note in the CLONE hierarchy.  
“We are escorting the Republic ambassadors, Jedi Masters Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-wan Kenobi. They have been sent by the grace of the Supreme Chancellor Valorum at your invitation.”  
“Very good,” said the hologram pleasantly, “please instruct the ambassadors to proceed to the airlock and we will receive them on board immediately.”

“We’ve cleared the airlock,” said Qui-Gon into his comlink, knowing that it would almost certainly be monitored so keeping chat to a minimum.  
“Copy Master Jinn,” crackled Jeena’s voice over the tiny speaker, “we will maintain our present position.”  
Qui-Gon snapped the comlink off. He looked across to Obi-wan, “Here goes nothing.”  
“Do you really think this will be futile?” asked Obi-wan feeling his Master’s concern.  
“I am keeping an open mind, as should you,” cautioned Qui-Gon. He saw Obi-wan was still looking at him, “But yes, I feel it too. A disturbance.”

“Welcome Master Jedi,” said a young dark-haired man who greeted them once they had navigated the airlock. “I trust you had a pleasant journey.” A similar collar to that worn by the hologram was positioned about the neck of his over-rigid and uncomfortable-looking tunic.  
“Yes, thank you,” said Qui-Gon politely, looking about him. The inside of the ship was featureless enough, very similar to the Republic cruiser he had just vacated. Seeing nothing untoward, he turned his concentration back to the young man who had greeted them.  
“My name is Kiran,” he continued, “I will be at your disposal whilst you are aboard, as will all servants of the CLONE. Please do not hesitate to ask for anything that you may require.”  
“Thank you,” said Qui-Gon politely, wondering if servant was a pleasant euphemism for slave.  
“Please, if you can follow me.”  
So far everything seemed normal enough, but the Jedi had learned to not trust anything that was ‘normal.’ After a brief walk, Kiran showed them into a functional meeting room aboard the cruiser, furnished simply and starkly with ergonomic table and chairs. “The CLONE’s negotiator will be along in a moment. Can I get you anything?”  
“A drink would be appreciated,” said Qui-Gon, to get the young man from the room if anything.  
“Same for me,” added Obi-wan, out of politeness rather than need.  
As soon as Kiran had bowed and left, the elder Jedi immediately began checking the room, looking for obvious security systems or surveillance cameras.  
“I have a bad feeling about this,” Obi-wan was nervous. He felt incessant pricklings all over his skin.  
“You are right to be cautious.” Qui-Gon was looking into the corner at a series of mysterious vents; only half satisfied that the room was not bugged. Coming over to where Obi-wan stood, he smiled at him, “However, it would be wise to focus on something other than your anxiety. We need your concentration. Anything could happen and we must be ready for it.”  
“Speaking of the present situation, how do you think the CLONE will react to the Chancellor's proposals?”   
“I think we should look upon them more as demands,” replied Qui-Gon carefully, “and to tell you the truth, I have no idea. One thing I do expect is that from the intense secrecy that the CLONE preserve, these negotiations will not be straightforward. They may indeed be solely an exercise in propaganda so we must keep our wits about us.”  
“You mean the CLONE will try to convince us of their point of view?”  
“Indeed. We must be careful to ensure that we do not say anything that the CLONE could use against the Republic.”  
Although there was no real concept of time in deep space, the two Jedi became aware that they were being kept for an inordinately long in the meeting room. Eventually the door swished open and in walked a group of varied species led by a stately Mpengan, skin faintly luminescent under the harsh lights of the chamber. As a species, the Mpengans were unusually strong in the Force; unsurprisingly a high proportion of them trained as Jedi. This made Qui-Gon immediately wary; there would be a very good reason why a Mpengan had been chosen as the ambassador for the CLONE. They might be the source of the Force disturbance, thought Qui-Gon. It was much stronger now; he could feel it resonating in the chamber.  
The Neimoidian from the hologram, Kiran and another fair-haired human, also male, followed with trays of drinks. They were the only three wearing collars and it was safe for Qui-Gon to assume that the three of them were slaves, the collar the means through which they would be controlled.  
“Greetings Master Jedi,” the Mpengan, speaking through a throat translator, bowed respectfully, “we have been sent to parley with you concerning the activity of the CLONE within this system.”  
“We are honoured with your presence,” replied Qui-Gon, bowing deeply in respect, “I am Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my comrade, Obi-wan Kenobi.”  
“I am pleased to meet with two illustrious Jedi,” purred the negotiator, “I am Petuna Pe’tana. First, let me assure you that I am in no way affiliated to the CLONE, I am merely a neutral observer.”  
Alarm bells immediately sounded in Qui-Gon’s head, but he still feigned interest in Pe’tana’s credentials. “It is our honour to meet you, Pe’tana.”  
She gestured towards the table at the centre of the chamber, “Let us sit down and see if we cannot resolve our differences.”  
As the two Jedi took their seats, Pe’tana clapped her hands and asked the Nemoidian to bring them their refreshments. Swaying over to the table and taking a seat, the colourful creature eyed the two Jedi curiously. “It seems to me that certain factions within the Senate are objecting to the CLONE’s quite legitimate concern for our Republic’s more weaker systems. With the contestation of Naboo’s sovereignty by the Hunnites the CLONE seek to extend the hand of protection.”  
“That is not the intelligence we received,” objected Obi-wan, “and I am certain that the people of Naboo would not appreciate such interference in the governance of their system.”  
“And I question your definition of legitimate concern,” replied Qui-Gon gravely. “From the Senate’s perspective the CLONE is acting in an aggressive manner and using these systems to effect their own political agenda. How can you explain the systematic destruction of trading ships that have presented no threat to your activity within the system?”  
“I can assure you that aggression is not the CLONE’s intention,” said Pe’tana in her lilting, singsong voice, amplified by the translator. “These ships you speak of were not legitimate traders, they were pirates sent by the Hunnites, seeking to subvert the precarious trading systems of the Republic. The CLONE were merely protecting the people of Naboo from their dangerous intentions.”  
“Please excuse me,” said a hushed voice at the side of Qui-Gon. It was the fair-haired slave, obviously waiting to place some drinks on the table but Qui-Gon’s arm was in the way.  
“Forgive me,” said Qui-Gon, nodding to the young man politely and immediately moving his arm. As he did so, he suddenly became aware that it was the Force energy around the young man that was all out of sorts, not the ambassador.  
“Slave! You were told to remain silent in our presence,” interrupted Pe’tana, glaring at the young man. The slave looked about to speak but then stopped as the light on his collar changed from blue to red. Clearly it signalled a punishment of some kind but other than a brief flicker of emotion in his eyes, the young man made no noise.  
“I do not think that was necessary,” Qui-Gon said disapprovingly to the negotiator who had changed to an angry puce colour. He was now very much aware of what those collars were for.  
“He is ours, Master Jedi, to do as we please,” replied one of the other participants, a stern-looking human. “Please, do not let this distract our attention from the matter at hand.”   
“Proceed with your duties,” said Pe’tana to the slave, composing herself more becomingly.  
Not daring to look at anyone, his cheeks flushed from all the attention, the young man went back to handing out drinks.  
“And we beg to differ, Master Jedi, from your assessment of the situation,” continued Pe’tana, “It is the strong contingent of so-called reformers in the Senate that seem determined to ensure that the Republic has more power to interfere with the governance of planetary systems, not the CLONE. The CLONE are responding to the request of the citizens of these systems for greater protection against the growing disintegration of the Republic. The belligerence of the Hunnites is only one small aspect of a growing problem. Surely you are aware yourself of the growing disaffection that plagues the Senate? It is ruled by powerful interests who ignore the problems that plague vulnerable systems – encroaches made upon them by pirates, the growing problem of smugglers. There are organised crime networks that create havoc and disruption for many across the Galaxy yet the Senate do nothing to stop them. These are the issues that interest these systems, not tax structures and trade routes.”  
“As Jedi, we must have no opinion on the political agenda of the Senate,” said Qui-Gon after listening to her argument, “and I would like to investigate further your meaning, particularly the factions in the Senate you refer to. We are aware that there are disagreements between systems concerning the best way in which the Republic is to be governed but we are not aware that these would jeopardise the governance of these systems. And as for the growing lawlessness you imply, this is not a situation that the Jedi are aware of.”  
“The Jedi are a dying force within the Republic,” stated the negotiator baldly, “your grasp of events is patently…”  
“With respect, Pe’tana,” said Qui-Gon diplomatically, “we are hear to discuss the actions of the CLONE not the reputation of the Jedi.”  
“But with respect, Master Jinn,” she replied, purple hues mingling amongst the pinkish bands that flowed and shifted with her words, “by sending two Jedi to negotiate, the Senate has made your reputation very pertinent. For you claim to be impartial and yet the suppression of the CLONE would mean everything to your Order. As protectors of the Republic it is vital that such a threat to your role be quelled.”  
Listening to her words, within him Qui-Gon felt a little part of his optimism for a settlement die. He was sensing resistance to any kind of argument that they might raise and Obi-wan’s silence also confirmed these suspicions. However they had to pursue every avenue of engagement, and taking a deep breath he prepared himself to counter the negotiator’s supposition.

Hours of debate and Qui-Gon’s suspicions had been confirmed. The CLONE had no real intention of resolving their differences with the Republic and Pe’tana was clearly not the impartial negotiator that was needed. They had been going around in circles in some polite diplomatic wrangle, listening to a stream of arguments from Pe’tana suggesting that the CLONE were honourable in their intentions and merely wanted to re-address the inequality amongst planetary systems that existed within the Republic. The growing corruption only favoured the powerful, something that Qui-Gon agreed privately with but to have done so at that moment would have played into the CLONE’s hands. However the meeting took a more ominous turn when the negotiator implied that there were elements on Naboo who would welcome the CLONE.  
“Surely that is impossible,” said Obi-wan in exasperation, feeling the strain of the past hours, “Queen Amidala would not sanction such a capitulation to the CLONE. Naboo is a firm supporter of the Republic and she would not ctively seek to undermine it.”  
“The CLONE do not seek to undermine the Republic,” stated Pe’tana haughtily, “they seek to protect those vulnerable to the new reforms. And although you may believe that Queen Amidala is in favour of these reforms, in private she has expressed different intentions. As the CLONE understands the situation, the Queen wishes to maintain the position that Naboo has enjoyed for centuries. Theirs is a peaceful planet, but with the growing unrest the Queen and her Council no longer believe that it will be possible for the Republic to protect them. Although she may have resisted the CLONE at first, we believe that she is coming round to see that their protection can only be beneficial to her and her people. It will not be long before she expresses her intention that she wishes Naboo to join with them. I am afraid that you may have been poorly informed of the real situation.”  
Sceptical, Qui-Gon looked at Obi-wan, I do not believe we will make any more headway with the ambassador. Protocol demanded that they would have to investigate the CLONE’s allegations before they continued with the negotiations. Following Obi-wan’s assent, Qui-Gon said, “We will have to concede that our mission to you has ended.”  
“As the conventions of the Republic demand,” said Pe’tana smugly, irritated by the Jedi’s tendency to confer telepathically. “It is a pity that the Jedi’s hands are so often tied by the political system you risk your lives to defend.”   
“We must ensure that all information is made available to us before we consider any resolution,” replied Qui-Gon, not wishing to endanger the people of Naboo by provoking the CLONE. There was more at stake than the reputation of the Senate. “However, since we have been commanded by the Chancellor to reach a settlement I propose that the CLONE remove their unlawful blockade of the planet of Naboo until the opinion of Queen Amidala and her Council is confirmed to us.”  
Pe’tana’s expression changed dramatically, the colours shifting to greens and browns, growing duller, “I am afraid that will not be possible.”  
“Then your Masters have broken an agreement,” said Qui-Gon calmly. “They agreed to negotiate and by such implied a settlement, even if temporary, would be reached.”  
“Then I am sorry that your journey here will have been wasted,” replied Pe’tana apologetically, fixing her dark, pupil-less eyes on the two Jedi. Holding out her slender hand, she shook hands with both of them in turn. “Please take our condolences to the Supreme Chancellor. Tell him he needs to send more flexible negotiators next time.”  
“Indeed, I will.” The barbed comment caused a little smile to flicker across Qui-Gon’s stern features.  
“You two,” Pe’tana turned to the slaves waiting patiently for orders. “Come with me. And you,” now she addressed the fairest of the three young men, “escort the Jedi back to their ship. Then report to me immediately.”  
“Yes, my lady,” the two young men replied with military precision.   
The fair-haired slave turned to Qui-Gon, “Please come this way, Master Jedi.”  
Bowing to the irritating Pe’tana, Qui-Gon left the debating chamber, Obi-wan following close behind.

The two Jedi walked along the over-bright corridor, their boot soles resounding loudly. From far below could be heard the deep throbbing of the engines as they kept the ship in situ, an ominous backdrop to the surrounding silence. As they walked, Obi-wan had not failed to notice that Qui-Gon was watching the young man at their side intently and had taken an interest in him ever since his punishment at the hands of the ambassador. At first he wondered if it was merely a passing interest but no, the elder Jedi had barely said two words to him since they had left the negotiation chamber and the younger Jedi felt a sense of impending action. The slave also seemed on the verge of something, but what that was Obi-wan could not define. About them both, the Force shimmered and contorted as if grand decisions were being made silently in the two minds beside him, closed to his probing. And he didn’t like that one bit. Beginning to wonder exactly what was going on, he was about to ask Qui-Gon when there came a sudden exclamation from the fair-haired slave which took them both by surprise.  
“Master Jedi. Please, are you here to save us from the CLONE?”  
Qui-Gon smiled serenely. “What makes you think we are here to do that?”  
The young man looked puzzled, “Why else would you be here?”  
“Save who?” Obi-wan looked at Qui-Gon sceptically, “and what for?”  
“They keep us here against our will,” the slave continued. Despite the fear in his voice, his eyes betrayed a stubborn strength. “Many of us have died.”  
“Shouldn’t we have this conversation elsewhere,” continued Obi-wan nervously, looking back down the corridor to see if they were being followed.  
“Wait a minute, Obi-wan,” Qui-Gon waved his hand at his friend and turned back to the slave, “tell me, what makes you think we are here to save you?”  
“Because that’s what the Jedi do, isn’t it? Save people?” The young man looked at them both pleadingly, his words coming out in a breathless rush. “Please, look, you saw how they treat us, all we need is someone to help us get off the ship. There’s not that many of us, and we can look after ourselves once you’ve helped us to leave…”  
“It’s alright, take a deep breath,” interjected Qui-Gon, placing his hand on the young man’s shoulder to calm him. “I know who you are.”  
“You do?” It was Obi-wan who spoke; he looked surprised, as did the young man.  
“Yes, you’re Anakin Skywalker.”  
“How did you know?”  
Qui-Gon smiled as Obi-wan looked about to interject, “I met your mother Shmi on Tatooine.”  
“You met my mother?” Anakin looked at him in confusion.  
“Yes, she told me I would find you.”  
“How?”  
“In a dream…”  
“In a dream?” Now it was Anakin’s turn to be incredulous.  
“I don’t see how this has any bearing on events,” grunted Obi-wan, eager to leave the ship. “In case you have forgotten, we were getting out of here?”  
“Hush, Obi-wan. It has all importance,” insisted Qui-Gon, turning back to Anakin. “You thought you were the only one to have dreams?” There was certainly something turbulent about the young man’s position in the Force, the like of which Qui-Gon had never seen before. “You had a dream didn’t you, about us coming here?”  
“Yes,” said Anakin hesitantly, beginning to realise the strangeness of his situation.  
“And you don’t mind that you just asked a couple of complete strangers to help implement a plan which you have been dreaming about for years?”  
“No,” Anakin looked at him boldly, “as I said, you’re Jedi. Your job is to rescue people.”  
“He’s a smart boy,” agreed Obi-wan, looking at Qui-Gon with a gleam in his eye. If Qui-Gon was going to take his dreams literally then why shouldn’t this young man too? They were made for each other.  
“Well, you’re right Anakin. I was looking for you. But as Obi-wan rightly says we should concentrate on getting out of here.”  
“So he’s coming with us?” inquired Obi-wan whilst Anakin continued to look at them both expectantly.  
“Of course,” smiled Qui-Gon paternally, “after all we must live up to our reputation.”  
“What about the others…?” Anakin started to say.  
At the end of the corridor a door suddenly slid open, “There they are! Stop them!”  
“I knew this would happen,” muttered Obi-wan, pulling out his lightsaber from where it had been hidden beneath his cloak.  
Qui-Gon spun round too, just in time to see a squad of armed droids coming towards them, lowering their weapons into the firing position. Pulling out his lightsaber, his lightening reactions meant the first few shots of laser were easily deflected. Obi-wan, pushing Anakin behind him, took a position next to his friend; they easily held off the droid attack until all were body parts and circuits on the floor.   
Anakin looked at the mess ruefully, “We won’t have time to get the others, will we?”  
“No, I’m sorry, Anakin” said Qui-Gon, breathing heavily. He knew there would soon be more droids on their way, after all battle droids were expendable. “What’s the best way out of here?”  
“I know a way,” said Anakin, suddenly excited, “come on!”

Captain Jeena reached the bridge just as panic was beginning to set in.   
“Thank goodness you are here,” the co-pilot gestured her over.  
“What is it, Hudmana?” asked the Captain coldly as she reached him, “I did not hear the final part of your message.”  
“Captain, I…”  
“We’ve lost the starboard shields Captain!” One of the aides was gesturing, trying to get their attention.  
“What?” Jeena stared agog at the huge view-screen beyond the bridge; she couldn’t believe it. “What’s going on?” It became clear that something was very wrong when the ship suddenly keeled over to the left side.  
“The CLONE are attacking us!” Hudmana finally managed to get his words out.  
“Throw all power to the shields,” ordered Jeena, recovering from the shock of seeing the CLONE battle ships and fighters that filled what should be the vast, empty reaches of space outside. “Have the Jedi returned?”  
“No Captain. We have had no contact from them.”  
Jeena expelled her breath. They had walked straight into a trap.

“So much for their negotiation,” said Obi-wan hoarsely as they raced down the corridor. Already they had run into several more droid squadrons.  
Qui-Gon was fruitlessly trying to contact Bravery on his comlink. “Blast, there’s no signal!”  
“What do you think could have happened?”  
“Attack,” was all Qui-Gon said.  
“Oh dear, do you think...?”  
“Wait,” said Anakin, pausing at the entrance to another corridor. The two Jedi followed his example and flattened themselves against the corridor wall. “The escape pods are down there. Past that security droid.”  
“I’ll deal with it,” grinned Obi-wan, pulling out his lightsaber.  
“Wait, you’ll raise the alarm!” Anakin urged caution. “No one is allowed down that corridor except in emergencies and there’s cameras and sensors all over the place.”  
“Alright. You two stay here, leave this to me,” instructed Qui-Gon. He could feel a sense of impending trouble, probably more troops on their way.  
The two of them waited as the Jedi Master disappeared down the corridor. There was a silence for a long moment, then the sound of clattering.  
“What’s he up to?”  
Obi-wan and Anakin peered around the corner warily. They could just see the remains of a droid’s head lying on the floor.  
“I could have done that,” remarked Obi-wan dryly, “come on.”

From their escape pod, the two Jedi could finally see the real intentions of the CLONE as fighters and larger battle cruisers surrounded the limping Bravery, the dark velvety backdrop lit up sporadically with flashes of laser fire and bursts of cannon. Behind them, Anakin stared with wide eyes at the disappearing ship that had been his prison for his recent existence. Woefully the collar at his neck bleeped, reminding him still of his status. He wondered if there was a way of taking it off before they noticed he was gone. One reason why no slave had ever attempted an escape were the rumours that the collars could be activated, leading to immediate extermination.   
The pod rocked under some outside impact. “What the…?” grumbled Obi-wan steadying himself against the side of the pod. “Master, they’re firing on us!”  
Before Qui-Gon could reply, the escape pod took another direct hit. Both Jedi were thrown against the side of the pod, more forcefully this time, tangled in a clump of robes, limbs and hair.  
“Help,” cried a muted voice from beneath them. Somehow Anakin had ended up at the bottom of the pile.  
There was no time to recover before the pod shifted again, sending them sprawling across to the other side. Two more laser blasts damaged its mechanisms beyond repair, causing it to loop and spin in a drunken course towards the surface of Naboo.  
“Master Qui-Gon?” Obi-wan rubbed his head where he had banged it, seeing his Master slumped on the floor of the pod. He grabbed the side as again they were spun round, the force and speed turning his stomach over and over. It was very hard not to retch. Taking a deep breath, the younger Jedi crawled carefully over to where Qui-Gon lay, trying to ignore the fact there was no longer a recognisable floor. “Qui-Gon?” Shaking his Master only proved for certain that he was unconscious.  
“Is he alright?” Crushed up against the side of the pod by a broken seat, Anakin could do nothing.  
The surface of Naboo hurtled faster and faster towards them, looming in the window. “I hope so.”  
Then they were crashing through the atmosphere.  
Holding on tightly to his Master, Obi-wan prayed to the Force that their landing would be soft.

“That was not the most pleasant landing.” In the remains of the pod, Qui-Gon had eventually come round to contend with a thumping headache and aching limbs.  
Obi-wan was busy disentangling Anakin from the wreckage. “Are you alright to move?”  
“I think so.” Qui-Gon felt the pod rock from side to side as he stood up and shifted his balance to compensate, “Are you and Anakin in one piece?”  
“Let’s have a look,” the Jedi was checking him over, “no broken bones at least.” He smiled at Anakin, “You’ll live.”  
“Where are we?” Feeling stiff and bruised, Anakin shifted his attention to the tiny window.   
“No idea.” It was impossible to see anything; there was too much condensation.   
Qui-Gon gestured to the hatch, “With any luck we will have crashed on Naboo. Lead the way, Obi-wan.”  
“I like your thinking, Master, if there is anything dangerous outside I will get attacked first.”  
“Not if you use your perceptions like a good Jedi should,” teased Qui-Gon, picking up his lightsaber from where it had fallen. “Now go on before I throw you out. And you too Anakin. Come on.” He noticed that the young man was fiddling with the collar around his neck again.  
The door was too mangled in the landing to open properly and it was only with difficulty that Obi-wan emerged from the pod. Immediately his hand flew up to his nose, “Urgh what is this place?” After sweep of the area he saw that they had crash-landed in the middle of a misty, evil smelling swamp, filled with strange cries and clouds of hostile insects. Poor Obi-wan soon found out that they were fond of the taste of Jedi flesh. “Ugh, get away,” he cried, batting them away from his face and hair.  
“What are you doing Obi-wan?” asked Qui-Gon as he emerged from the pod, eying his fellow Jedi with amusement, “has the wildlife taken a shine to you?”  
“I’m being attacked…” With a small cry, Obi-wan pelted out the swamp, pursued by a small crowd of eager insects.  
Qui-Gon couldn’t help a small chuckle. But the pain intensified and he grasped his side, willing himself onwards.  
“Master Qui-Gon, sir,” said Anakin politely as he followed him, “I think I need to remove this collar.”  
Turning back to the young man, Qui-Gon conceded that it would be a good idea. “They might be using it to track us. Let’s get out this swamp and then I’ll take a look at it.” Wrenching his good foot from the over-eager mud, Qui-Gon took Anakin’s arm and they followed Obi-wan’s path to firmer ground.  
Exposure to the swamp for only a brief period left the three of them covered in sticky mud, splashed onto their tunics and boots. Fortunately it was pleasant weather-wise and a gentle sun shone down from the bluest sky Obi-wan had ever seen. He had heard all about the beauty of Naboo and he was pleased to see that it was not all hyperbole. And it became more picturesque still as they reached the edge of the marsh, and emerged into a vast expanse of meadow, elegant grasses waving in the gentle breeze interspersed here and there with gaudy flowers. In the distance, purple-hued mountains rose to meet a bank of fluffy clouds, their uppermost tops capped with snow.  
“This is much more pleasant,” sighed Obi-wan, wiping his muddy boots as best he could on the grass, hoping the smell would dissipate once the mud dried. “I could quite happily retire here.”  
“I think the Council have their own ideas about that,” said Qui-Gon as he examined Anakin’s neck collar. “At the moment they appear to favour Dagobagh.”  
“You have to mention the most forsaken system in the Galaxy,” grumbled Obi-wan, spreading himself on the grass and soaking up the bright rays of the sun, “no Jedi should have to retire there.”  
But Qui-Gon was no longer listening. Instead he was running his hands around Anakin’s collar, trying to feel its construction, to sense where it had been joined about the young man’s neck. Anakin remained silent as he did so, struck by the awesome power that resonated from the Jedi’s fingers.  
“Aha,” Qui-Gon found where the collar had been welded together. Concentrating all his power onto that single spot he relaxed and let the Force flow through him to undo what had been done, imagining the metal melting and twisting and buckling…  
“Um, Master Qui-Gon?” The collar was suffused with light, radiating and growing warmer against the young man’s neck.  
… growing warmer and then small drips starting to appear as the band started to melt under the intense gaze of the Jedi, just a little more…  
“Ow!” Anakin gave a small yelp as the hot molten liquid splashed onto his exposed skin.  
Wrenching off the now useless collar, Qui-Gon quickly pulled him towards a small pool at the edge of the meadow. Using the corner of his cloak he mopped up the scalding liquid, “Sorry Anakin, it required more energy than I expected.”  
“It’s okay, it’s gone now.” Seeing the bent remains of his hated collar lying incongruous in the grass cheered him enough to make up for the pain.  
“Obi-wan, have you any of those bacta patches left?” Qui-Gon noticed that the water was doing little to soothe the mess of burns on Anakin’s neck.  
“Yes.” By now thoroughly rested, Obi-wan came over to inspect the damage. “Oh dear. That looks bad.”  
“Really?” Anakin tried to twist his head around to see what they were looking at but only succeeded in aggravating the pain.  
“Try to keep your head straight,” soothed Qui-Gon, “Obi-wan are you going to be helpful or have you just come over here to gawp at poor Anakin’s misfortune?”  
“I can be helpful,” fiddling with his pouch a moment, Obi-wan handed to him the required patches.  
“Thank you.” Gently, the elder Jedi placed the largest patch over the back of Anakin’s neck, pressing it down over the burns. “That should feel better in a moment.”  
It was a long moment but eventually Anakin could feel the soothing properties of the bacta starting to work. “Thank you.”  
Qui-Gon smiled. “Well, now we have that little problem sorted out we better decide what we are going to do. I think our best course is to head north and hopefully somebody can direct us to the capital.”  
“The capital?” Obi-wan looked up from a particularly interesting fauna specimen.  
“Yes. I think we should pay a visit to the Ruler of Naboo.”

Petuna Pe’tana sashayed into the command centre of the CLONE cruiser, having been summoned by General Greivous. It was evident to her that he wanted a report on the meeting with the two Jedi and Pe’tana wondered how she could gloss over the fact the answer was “nothing much.”  
“Ah Pe’tana,” said Grievous hoarsely, spinning round in his observation seat to face her. “We have been informed of your failure.” The General was a peculiar hybrid of droid and what was assumed to be organic, presenting a terrifying sight with his skull like face, ghastly yellow eyes and skeletal limbs. Even his voice instilled fear into his enemies and supporters alike, coarse and rasping from the breathing equipment he used to stay alive.  
“I would hardly call it a failure, General.” Despite her resolve, faced with Grievous she felt her panic rising. She just managed to control herself.  
“Then what would you call it?” asked the General curiously, tapping out an ominous beat with a bony finger on the monitor beside him.  
“I admit that nothing conclusive came of our negotiations with the Jedi,” she replied, her rigidity beginning to dissolve in the face of his criticism. She clutched at images in her mind, thoughts and feelings. “But I sensed some fear, General. It was difficult to grasp but it was there, particularly in the younger one. I believe that they fear some disruption within the Force.”  
“Interesting.” Grievous was watching the security console impassively as the cruiser continued to pulverise the Republic ship. Turning back to Pe’tana he patted her arm, almost tenderly. “So our Jedi friends are experiencing some disadvantage?”  
“I believe so.”  
“Excellent.” Getting up, Grievous indicated that she should leave, “You may go.”  
Confused as to why he had sent for her, if only for that snippet of information, Pe’tana nonetheless bowed and left the command centre hurriedly.  
Turning back to the scene of devastation exterior to the ship, Grievous was annoyed as another escape pod ejected from the Bravery. “They are not supposed to escape,” he growled, cuffing the technician nearest to him around the head, “You are supposed to destroy them!”  
“Yes, General,” the technician pressed more switches, “we have scored a direct hit on two pods already. We lost the slave’s signal so the Jedi must have perished with him.”  
“Well done,” sneered Grievous, examining the readout, “we cannot afford to have any survivors.”   
“General Grievous,” called another of the technicians, “there is a message incoming…”  
“Excellent,” said the cyborg, rubbing his hands and hurrying over to the console.  
“…from Queen Amidala.”  
“Ah.” It was not what he expected but he made the best of the news. “At last she has given up on her futile resistance to communications.” Attacked by a sudden spasm of coughing, Grievous rasped, “Put her up!”  
The console flickered to life, projecting onto a large vidscreen an image of the Queen of Naboo. Queen Amidala was the hundredth and fiftieth Queen, recently elected to the title. If her election had been controversial, she was now proving highly popular amongst the Naboo for her strong stance against the actions of the Hunnites and the CLONE. About her throne sat the Ruling Council and four handmaidens dressed identically in hooded cloaks of orange flame. They were as disconcerting as the white painted doll-like face and elaborate, stately robes of the precocious Queen herself.  
“Are you General Grievous?” The Queen glared at the cyborg imperiously.  
“At last you have decided to speak with us, your Highness,” rasped Grievous, bowing obsequiously. “We are your humble servants.”  
“I do not understand your meaning, General, when you create an intentional obstruction within our system.” The Queen pursed her scarlet lips, “An obstruction which you will end immediately.”  
Unable to register any emotions visually, Grievous settled for sounding surprised instead. “Forgive me, your Majesty. From communications we have received, we were led to believe that your own Council and the people of the Naboo would be pleased to welcome the protection that we can offer you against the Hunnite system.”  
“You have received no such communications, General,” said the Queen, her stilted accent recognisable as the Court diction of a Naboo sovereign. “We can assure you of that. Remove your ships from our system or we will take our complaint direct to the Senate.”  
“Your Majesty it is the laxity of the Chancellor and his Senate that we are offering you protection from,” continued Grievous, by now deeply wounded. “I think you should be aware of the true nature of the supposedly pacifistic Senate. Even now we having to defend ourselves from the Republic Bravery…”  
“We find it hard to believe you, General, when we have heard that within the present time the Chancellor has sent two ambassadors to negotiate with you the terms of our release.”  
“On the contrary Madam, it was us who asked for negotiations to commence,” interjected Grievous whilst the Queen looked on in fury. “And instead of the ambassadors we requested they sent two Jedi Knights. Instead of negotiating, your Highness, they proved most inflexible…”  
“General Grievous,” began the young Queen, annoyed at being interrupted by what she considered a vastly inferior being, “the Jedi are not…”  
“So I think you will find that it is the Senate that has been provoking the situation not the CLONE,” added the General, determined to get his point of view across.  
“The Republic would not sanction an attack without provocation,” said the Queen, unable to contain her frustration. “It is the CLONE under your direction who has carried out a systematic campaign to deprive star systems of their independence. You say your intentions are in the interests of protection but we consider…”  
“Your Highness,” interjected General Grievous, more harshly, “forgive me, but the rubbish fed to you from the Senate has skewed your perspective of events. The systems you speak of were pleased enough to join us.” More obsequiously he said, “I beg you to consider our proposal, your Majesty.”  
With no appetite to continue the conversation, the Queen regarded the General imperiously for a moment. “Your overconfidence is extraordinary, General. We will never accept your proposal when our faith still lies in the Republic.” The screen winked off.  
After a moment General Grievous began to laugh but he soon stopped when it threatened to turn into a spasm of agonised coughing.  
His second in command, Petre Woh, regarded him with a critical eye. “She is proving more difficult than we suspected.”  
“Queen Amidala will give in eventually,” growled Grievous, stalking away from the screen on curiously clawed robotic legs. “They all do.”

Down on Naboo, in the palace of Threed, tensions were running high. The Ruling Council of Naboo, a body of the wisest philosophers and counsellors of the kingdom convened to advise the young ruler, had been holding out against both the Hunnites and the CLONE but there was increasing fear that with General Grievous himself now overseeing the blockade of their planet, there would not be a swift – or bloodless – solution to their predicament. Their only salvation now lay in the protection afforded by the Republic.  
Whilst the last few remnants of the Republic cruiser Bravery drifted listlessly into the endless reaches of space, Queen Amidala was standing thoughtfully before a continually interrupted hologram of her representative in the Senate. Beside her were members of her Council including the most senior Sio Bibble, advisor to generations of Queens; Leia Junn, whose knowledge of Naboo law was unrivalled; and Alaric Kassai, the royal philosopher. They too were watching the hologram of Senator Palpatine. Palpatine, an older, slender man with pale and watery eyes, was passive in temperament and dutiful in all his endeavours. Yet there was a sense of steely determination beneath his outwardly humble demeanour which was sorely needed in times such as these.  
“The ambassadors sent by the Republic have reached the CLONE, Senator Palpatine,” explained the Queen, still pondering the message from the CLONE leader. “But Grievous claims that they purposefully failed to reach a settlement and instead ordered the Republic army to attack them. What can we make of this?”  
“How could that be true? Your Majesty, I have assurances from the Chancellor...his Ambassadors were ordered to reach a settlement.”   
“Be that as it may,” replied the Queen tersely, “they have failed and we remain in the same perilous position as before.”  
“Unless it … a ruse by the CLONE… invade our system…”  
“Invade our system?” said Kassai incredulously, his dour robes and long, tousled beard befitting his reputation as a severe aesthete. “They would not dare to make such an aggressive move upon Naboo.”  
“With this blockade they are already close to invasion,” said Leia Junn miserably.  
“General Grievous himself implied that the protection of the CLONE is desired by our people and our Council,” continued the Queen sourly, “what strategy could he hope to effect with such ridiculous statements?”  
“I agree, it is preposterous,” declared Sio Bibble, spritely and wise following many years of public service. “But it is the perfect justification for a motiveless attack.”  
“They may well… seek to…invade,” commented Senator Palpatine, listening to their conversation intently, “as… other systems… inform… … Valorum… diately… Highness and ensure that… …”  
“Senator, it is getting difficult to hear you,” replied the Queen, looking about her for aid.  
“I will… brief your Highness,” continued Palpatine, his voice heavy with static, “it seems … CLONE attack is certain…”  
Despite fiddling with the frequencies, it seemed to make no difference. The Queen looked with anxiety towards the increasingly disturbed hologram, praying it was interruption due to a poor signal.   
“It must be the...get...the Chancellor to… renegotiate...” continued the Senator, “… will report back your Highness. Farewell.”   
“Good luck, Senator Palpatine.” The Queen’s face remained expressionless, hidden under the thick white make-up and glittering gems.  
“I believe they mean to invade us, your Highness,” remarked Sio Bibble, “as Senator Palpatine implied it is a well known tactic of the CLONE.”  
“We understand what the Senator has said,” said the Queen more shakily, “but there is no certainty and no reason why. We were led to believe that the Hunnites would invade us but as yet it is the CLONE that have surrounded our system.”  
“I beg your pardon, your Majesty, but I believe the CLONE is taking advantage of the situation,” explained Leia Junn but seeing the realisation on the Queen’s face she knew that it was beginning to sink in. Although a former Queen herself she was aware that the situation they were now facing was unprecedented in Naboo’s recent history. “I cannot feel but that we are completely at their mercy. We have no way to defend ourselves except thorough the structures of the Republic, structures that the CLONE hold no regard for.”  
“They also hold no regard for truth,” stated the Queen, angrily.  
“Indeed, your Highness,” remarked Sio Bibble, “it is likely that the CLONE will not reveal their real intentions towards us.”  
“They are unable to influence us by fair means so now they will attempt foul means,” lamented Leia Junn, rubbing her hands upon the stiff material of her gown, as she was wont to do when anxious.  
“What do you propose we do?” asked the Queen. “We cannot accept the Hunnite’s calls for new elections and neither can we accept the CLONE’s tacit attempts to invade us, yet we have few resources here to resist either demand.”  
Captain Panaka nodded, “I have to agree your Highness. Our security forces will be no match against this General Grievous and his army. I suggest that we evacuate as many citizens to the country as we can before they invade.”  
“Your Highness, it is too late for that now,” countered Alaric Kassai firmly. “We have no structures in place and our people will not be ready.”   
“I concur,” Sio Bibble was equally firm. “We must put our faith in the Republic and hope that Senator Palpatine can provide a solution…”  
“But we cannot hope to withstand any hostile action for long, we have all agreed this,” said Leia Junn morosely, the beads on her long, embroidered robe chiming as they clattered together with each impassioned movement. “Your Majesty, I beg you to evacuate! We can hide in the mountains, as did your great-great-great Grandfather when Threed was previously threatened by the Hunnites…”  
The Queen looked to the head of security, who shook his head. “I am afraid it is not possible, Madam.” After much thought Captain Panaka regretfully had reached the same decision as the two Governors; “The time to act has long since passed. Our only hope is that the CLONE’s threat of invasion is just that, a threat. We are self-sufficient enough to withstand the blockade in the time it takes Senator Palpatine to reach a decision with the Chancellor and the Senate.”  
“That is true,” murmured the Counsellors, looking to the Queen. She seemed to have been awfully quiet.  
“We will not sanction an evacuation,” said the Queen finally, clasping her hands together tightly. “To do so would be to give into the CLONE. We cannot tolerate that.” The Queen turned and slowly walked back towards her throne, the heavy robes trailing on the floor.  
“You are most brave, Queen Amidala,” remarked Sio Bibble, pleased at her fortitude but concerned that the CLONE would not respect it as much as her people. “But we must have a plan in case the threat of invasion is real. We stand little hope of resisting their demands if they land here.”  
“You forget, Governor,” intoned the Queen, sitting gracefully in her throne, the heavy robes spreading out around her, “that they need us to sign their perfidious treaty for them. And we have no intention of capitulating.”

After begging a lift from a passing tradesman, and alighting in the central plaza of the capital city, the two Jedi and former slave looked about them in amazement. Threed, the capital of Naboo, was a peaceful and elegant city, as promised in the brochures. The buildings were low and elegantly constructed of warm, golden stone, arranged pleasingly around wide canals that carried a proliferation of boats about the city. The citizens, brightly attired in rich silks and fabrics, thronged the streets; the wealth of Naboo evident in the number of shops and goods from around the Galaxy that could be purchased within them. Yet the traveller’s attention was drawn to the gracious domed building at the city’s centre, surrounded by magnificent fountains that shot water high into the air, only to fall back down in sparkling droplets reflecting the overhead sun. The palace of Threed.  
Escorted to the throne room, the two Jedi were informed that the Queen was in Council with her governors and had been for most of the preceding days.  
“No one has yet been able to provide a solution to our predicament,” said the leader of the guards as he escorted them in, pushing open the tall, panelled door that led into the throne room. “Your arrival is most fortunate.”  
The Queen watched them with great interest as the small group approached her throne across the polished marble of the floor. “Welcome to Threed, Master Jedi.”  
Qui-Gon bowed deeply. “Your Highness, we are the ambassadors sent by the Supreme Chancellor to treaty with the CLONE. I am Master Qui-Gon Jinn, this is Obi-wan Kenobi, and this young man is a former servant of the CLONE, Anakin Skywalker.”  
“We have learned that your negotiations with the CLONE failed,” said the Queen. She wondered if the arrival of the Jedi was fortuitous or a symbol that events were taking a turn for the worse. “General Grievous himself claims that not only did you purposefully fail to reach a settlement but you attacked the CLONE ship without provocation.”  
“Is that what he has told you?” said Qui-Gon sombrely. “From our perspective, the CLONE never had any intention of reaching a settlement. It was they who have deceived the Republic by leading us into a trap. Without Anakin’s help we would not be here, speaking to you now.”  
The Queen’s expression softened. “It seems that we have all been deceived, Master Jedi. The CLONE offers us security with one hand yet on the other they obstruct our planet, cutting supplies and transport to and from our system. We do not know how long we can tolerate this situation.”  
“The CLONE are not to be trusted,” added Sio Bibble. “Senator Palpatine, our representative on Coruscant, is convinced that the CLONE mean to invade us as they have with other systems.”  
Regarding the young Queen and her counsellors thoughtfully, Qui-Gon wondered how prepared Naboo was in the event of an invasion. “What is your plan of action, your Majesty?”  
“We do not have one, Master Qui-Gon,” admitted the Queen. “It is too late to evacuate without arousing the suspicion of the CLONE and there is the continuing threat of hostilities from the Hunnites. Senator Palpatine is trying all he can in the Senate but we fear that by the time he effects an agreement it will be too late. We do not know what to do.”  
“Perhaps your Majesty, it would be expedient to return with us to Coruscant?” suggested Qui-Gon modestly; “The Senate may be more willing to seek a solution if it came direct from yourself, who have personally witnessed the inexcusable situation inflicted upon you by the CLONE.”  
As if hit by a revelation, the young Queen nodded; “We think you are correct, Master Jedi. We can do more far more explaining our cause to the Senate than sitting here and waiting for events to overtake us.”  
Stunned by Qui-Gon’s suggestion, and the Queen’s ready acceptance of it, her advisors were immediately in uproar.  
“How can you even think of leaving your people?” cried Leia Junn, throwing up her hands in horror. “In this time of desperation they need you to be here with them, to lead and inspire them to resist this indignity.”  
“We are aware of the needs of the people, Madam Junn,” said the Queen, looking to Master Jinn for support. “However, we know at present we can do little for them. Our presence here will not make any difference.”  
“Your Grace, if I may say so, it will be difficult to safely leave Naboo whilst the CLONE are in orbit,” explained Captain Panaka, his instinct telling him that the Queen would only bring more danger upon herself if she followed the Jedi’s reckless strategy. “How will you get past the blockade?”  
“There is always a way,” said Qui-Gon, addressing the Captain, “we can use the Force to confuse the CLONE’s ships…”  
“How can the Force be strong enough against a fleet of ships!” said Alaric Kassai in alarm. “”I beg you your Majesty, do not listen to the Jedi, they do not have your safety at heart…”  
“Most learned counsellor, with respect,” replied the young queen, in her formal and stilted protocol, her steely words ringing out across the throne room. “It is not only us who are in danger from this contravention of Galactic laws, our entire people will suffer if we do not stop the CLONE. Already one attempt to resolve this outrage has been thwarted by the CLONE’s perfidy. Senator Palpatine will do all he can but he does not know of the real situation here. As Master Jinn suggests, we must present this to the Senate in person. Surely, a moment of danger is worth the opportunity to help to sway opinion in our favour?”  
After another hour of deliberation between the Council and the Jedi, the Council realised that they could not change the mind of their determined and remarkable Queen. Whichever scenario they considered – whether she remained on Naboo or returned with the Jedi to Coruscant – she would be at risk.  
“Very well,” said Sio Bibble, the spokesperson for the Council, “we agree, your Majesty, with reluctance that you should accompany the Jedi to Coruscant. However, we hope that the Jedi will appreciate the risk to your life and ensure that they will do everything in their power to prevent you falling into the hands of the CLONE.”  
“You can be assured of that,” said Qui-Gon confidently. It was not his intention to make the situation worse.  
“We understand your concerns, Counsellor Bibble,” said the Queen, rising from the throne, her headdress rattling as she moved with small and stately steps towards the two Jedi. In accordance with Naboo protocol, the rest of her government rose with her. “Nevertheless we are convinced that this is the best course of action for our people. We must fight for their freedom…”  
Alarms suddenly began to sound from somewhere deep inside the Palace, causing everyone to look around in surprise and apprehension.  
“The CLONE are playing their hand at last,” said Obi-wan perceptively, seeing panic flit across several of the Council members faces.  
“Indeed, we must leave immediately,” confirmed Sio Bibble, looking across to Captain Panaka who was trying to establish contact on his communicator.  
The door to the throne room opened and a Palace servant entered, his quick footsteps ringing on the hard polished floor. Reaching the Queen, he bowed, “Forgive my intrusion, your Highness, but a substantial fleet has been spotted entering our upper atmosphere. All our communications have been severed.”  
Poised, the Queen paused for a moment, feeling the emergency of the situation stimulating her nerves. Such compulsions had to be controlled according to Naboo’s regal protocol. “It is not right that we abandon our people in their time of need,” she finally said, motioning her court to head towards the door, “but we feel we have no choice.”  
“The Council will do it all it can to repel the invasion and ensure the people’s safety,” said Counsellor Bibble with calm authority. “You must do your duty, ma’am, and we will do ours.”  
“We are assured that we leave Naboo in safe hands,” replied the Queen, signalling to her handmaidens, who scattered in order to carry out unknown, prearranged commands.  
As the Queen walked quickly down the corridor, some members of the Council tried one last time to get her to reconsider her plans.  
“Please your Highness, consider the danger,” pleaded Leia Junn, alarmed at her apparent recklessness of spirit, “you cannot possibly get past their ships. It is suicide!”  
“We must try Madam,” was all she said.  
“Please listen to your Council, your Majesty,” cried Alaric Kassai, throwing himself to the ground in protestation and causing the Queen to come to a sudden halt. “You should not abandon your people! Without you they will be directionless, they look to you as their leader. You must be here to give them hope, to uphold their mettle in these dangerous times…”  
“Governor Kassai,” interrupted Sio Bibble, irritated by his hand-wringing display. “I believe that the Queen is determined on her course of action. We would help matters greatly by not delaying her.”  
“You are taking an enormous risk, your Highness!” cried the prostate Minister, ignoring his colleague. “You put your safety into the hands of strangers, Coruscant is mired in corruption and…”  
“Governor Kassai I ask you to refrain from delaying her Majesty’s progress any further. Please retire.” Even the usually calm Sio Bibble was ready to kick him.  
As Kassai climbed unsteadily to his feet, the Queen looked at him imperiously. “Counsellor, I have every faith that you will uphold the peace and security of Naboo in my absence.”  
“Your Majesty, we must leave before the Palace is overrun with CLONE,” advised Qui-Gon Jinn, worried that the more they delayed, the more danger faced the Queen.  
Alarms continued to sound shrilly and underneath her composure the Queen was becoming more frightened. Turning back to Sio Bibble she said briefly, “Counsellor Bibble, our peoples’ fate is in your hands.”  
“And our peoples’ future is in yours. Good luck, your Majesty.” Sio Bibble smiled back bravely at the Queen.  
With that, the two groups split; the Council heading back towards the throne room and the Queen with her entourage heading towards the hangar. The serious nature of the situation meant that normal protocol was dispensed with and, along with her chief of security, Captain Panaka, the Queen was attended by only three of her cloaked handmaidens, Rabé, Padmé and Eirtaé. The two Jedi, Obi-wan and Qui-Gon, along with Anakin, composed the remainder of the small group.

Back in the throne room, Counsellor Bibble watched the situation in the Plaza anxiously from the tall, front windows. Already there were legions of troops headed towards the Palace, emerging from the massive ships like so many flies from a corpse, marching with brisk intent. Behind them rumbled lines of menacing tanks. It was not clear why the CLONE needed such a display of force; Naboo itself had no army and no weapons.  
“You should not have let the Queen be swayed by the Jedi,” complained Kassai to Bibble, wringing his hands, “her life is in danger, I know it is! She should have remained here, with her people.”  
“The Jedi will not expose the Queen to unnecessary danger,” replied Bibble, ignoring his concerns, “what makes you think she will be safer here?”  
“They have an agenda of their own,” insisted Kassai, “and they will seek to use her to further it…”  
“The Queen decided to go to Coruscant of her own free will for the benefit of her people,” interjected Bibble, alarmed at his colleague’s antipathy towards the Jedi. “What possible advantage could the Jedi gain from our situation?”  
“To bolster a dying reputation,” muttered Kassai, staring out the window intently as the first of the troops reached the doors of the palace. Casually they cut down the guards that bravely attempted to block their progress, their bodies sprawling messily on the tidy white stone of the plaza.  
“I do not understand you, my friend,” said Bibble, steeling himself for an unpleasant confrontation with the advancing CLONE.

Reaching the drab steel doors of the hangar, Captain Panaka paused and lifted his hand, urging the group to wait. “I suggest I check the situation first, your Majesty.”  
“Surely the CLONE cannot have reached the palace yet,” whispered the Queen furiously, chafing at any delay to their escape. She had never had to be in fear of her life before and it was not the most comfortable of feelings.  
“We cannot assume anything,” insisted Panaka. “Wait here, your Highness, one moment and I will assess the situation.”  
“Very well, Captain.” As the Captain disappeared to check the hangar, the Queen stared resolutely before her, not saying a word. Still bedecked in her glittering robes she looked incongruous against the functional décor of their surroundings.  
Qui-Gon could not help but find it amusing. He had always wondered why the Naboo had flouted convention and instilled a young woman as their ruler. But in many ways it was beginning to make sense to the Jedi. This Queen was without a trace of guile, remarkably unselfconscious and her youth gave the added sense of invincibility that the old, despite their experience and wisdom, lost with every step closer to mortality.  
As they stood waiting, one of the handmaidens turned to the young man behind her. “Excuse me, is your name Anakin?”  
To his disconcertion as much as delight, Anakin was surprised that one of the mysterious handmaidens had deigned to speak to him. “Yes.”  
“Do you have any form of weapon?” she asked, her eyes dark pools beneath her hood in the emergency lighting of the corridor.  
“No,” he had to admit, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. “Do you think I’ll need one?”  
“We’ll have to find something,” replied the girl anxiously, “we don’t have anything either.” Before Anakin could capitalise on her interest in him, Captain Panaka returned and her attention shifted.  
“What is it Captain?” whispered the Queen as he crept back to where they were waiting, the door closing softly behind him.  
“There are droids all over the hangar, your Majesty. They’ve taken the pilots hostage.”  
“Droids?” said the Queen with derision, “what do the CLONE take us for?”  
“These are a different kind of droid, your Grace,” said Obi-wan mindful that Naboo would not have any knowledge of state of the art weaponry. “They are trained as warriors.”  
Qui-Gon turned to the Captain, “How many could you see?”  
“I definitely saw about eight, maybe ten of them but there is likely to be more.” Panaka was under no illusions that the odds were stacked against them.  
“I’ll create a distraction,” said Obi-wan boldly, drawing his lightsaber, “the rest of you follow Qui-Gon to the ship.”  
As Obi-wan ran stealthily across the hangar to take on the droids, Qui-Gon led the Queen and her retinue quickly towards a suitable Naboo cruiser, using the features of the cluttered hangar to shield the small group. But they had not got far before the hangar erupted into chaos, the droids having spotted the young Jedi. Undaunted, Obi-wan set about destroying them with his lightsaber while Qui-Gon concentrated on getting the Queen and her entourage to the ship.  
“Your Highness,” he called out, “you must come now!”  
Needing no further encouragement, the Queen and her handmaidens hastened aboard the ship whilst Qui-Gon deflected a barrage of laser bolts with his lightsaber.  
Meanwhile, having defeated the droids in the hangar, Obi-wan was freeing the pilots, thinking it would be useful to have someone who could actually fly the ship. “Who can take us to Coruscant?” he asked, freeing the last pilot from her binders.  
“Ric Olie at your service,” said a middle-aged, sandy-haired man, whose noticeable paunch suggested that he was as fond of eating as he was of flying.  
“Obi-wan!”  
Turning round, Obi-wan saw what Qui-Gon had spotted first; more troops were flooding into the hangar, attracted by the noise and commotion. Motioning Ric Olie to run for the ship, Obi-wan concentrated on destroying the first few ranks of battle droids, hoping to buy them some time.  
“Obi-wan, come on!”  
Hearing his friend calling him, Obi-wan abandoned his position and raced up the gangway into the ship. Taking one last look at the advancing droids, Qui-Gon followed his companion up into the ship, closing the gangway as the engines began to fire. Within the hangar insistent alarms continued to blare, laser bolts dissipating harmlessly against the ship as it streaked away.  
Rising above the royal city, the cruiser accelerated quickly towards the huge blue expanse of sky. From the cockpit, the Queen watched as troops flooded into Threed, huge cumbersome tanks rolling along behind them to quell any attempted insurrection from the populace.  
“Our people are in more danger than we thought,” she said to the Jedi standing beside her. “We only hope we can help them before it is too late.”  
“We are not out of danger ourselves yet, my lady,” pointed out Qui-Gon. “There is still the CLONE blockade to pass. I suggest…”  
“Our communications are jammed,” cried Ric Olie with annoyance, pushing switches in dismay. “Good thing there’ll be no one to hear about our disappearance.”  
“It also means they know we’re coming,” said Obi-wan bleakly.  
“You and your handmaiden must leave, your Highness,” said Qui-Gon to the Queen, who was stood with Padmé; “things might get a little rough.”  
“If you say so, Master Jedi,” said the Queen imperiously, “however we insist that Padmé remains here.”  
“If she must.” The cockpit was already crowded enough with two Jedi, Anakin, and Captain Panaka.  
“I will ensure that the Queen is safe,” said Obi-wan, sensing Qui-Gon’s irritation.  
“I need a co-pilot,” said Ric Olie as the Queen left with Obi-wan; he was struggling to manage all the incoming data as well as fly the ship in a straight line. “Can anyone here help?”  
“We Jedi are not trained in piloting the larger ships,” said Qui-Gon, daunted by the huge bank of controls laid out in front of him. “Maybe the Captain…?”  
“Don’t look at me,” said Panaka, seeing the Jedi’s attention shift towards him, “I only do security.”  
“I can help,” piped up Anakin from behind Qui-Gon. “I was trained to pilot similar ships on Tatooine, it can’t be that different.”  
“Fortunately a solution presents itself,” smiled Qui-Gon, moving out of the way so that Anakin could sit at the console.  
“What? Who let the kid in here?” grumbled Olie as he saw Anakin appraising the console; he was stressed from having to do about twenty things at once.  
“I’m hardly a kid,” grumbled Anakin, his eyes sweeping over the array of screens and controls. It was not his fault that the life of a slave kept him scrawny and malnourished; at his last reckoning he had worked out he was at least eighteen, maybe nineteen.  
“I suggest we give him a chance to prove himself,” said Qui-Gon patiently to the pilot, “after all, the Queen herself is only a kid.”  
“I don’t think you should let the Queen hear you say that,” smirked Panaka.  
Even the taciturn handmaiden, Padmé, could not help smiling at the Jedi’s comment. Dressed in long, concealing flame-coloured robes with only her face visible, the handmaiden had been quiet and watchful since accompanying the Queen aboard the ship. However, like the other handmaidens the other passengers rarely noticed her. They were there simply to attend the Queen.  
Olie tore his gaze long enough from the scanner to glance wearily at the Jedi, “Alright then.” He pointed to the bank of controls, “C’mon kid, since you’re the only choice I have I’ll give you a chance. But don’t mess this up!”  
“I won’t let you down.” Gladly taking a seat next to the pilot, it was not long before Anakin’s fingers were flying deftly over the controls.

As they entered the hold, Queen Amidala turned to Obi-wan. Finally her composure seemed shaken by the enormity of the threat they were exposed to. “What will happen to us, Master Obi-wan? We will be able to get past the CLONE’s blockade?”  
“Have faith, your Majesty,” said Obi-wan simply, guiding her towards a comfortable seat, “we must trust in the will of the Force.”

In the cockpit, all eyes were focused intently on the central battle cruiser looming towards them outside the window. It was impossible to avoid it; almost as soon as they had left Naboo the battle ship had registered the presence of the smaller cruiser. As the Executor came closer, almost immediately the ship was encased in loud explosions, barely deflected by the shields.  
“Now they’re firing at us,” said the Captain as the ship dodged and weaved to avoid the worst of the laser fire, “so much for their offer of protection.”  
“You see why we cannot trust them,” agreed Qui-Gon, admiring Anakin’s instinctual ability to fly the ship; with Olie entering the calculations for lightspeed, it was mostly Anakin who was keeping them out of the Executor’s bombardment.  
“Hang on!” said the pilot; more quietly he muttered “Let’s hope this baby holds together.” He looked in concern at all the malfunctions that already seemed to be registering on the console before him.  
Suddenly a loud and piercing alarm sounded.  
“What’s happening?” asked Padmé, looking inquisitively at the enigmatic array of lights and monitors spread out in front of them.  
“The shield generator's been hit,” explained Anakin, hands flying over the switches in front of him.  
“Divert all power to the front shields,” commanded Olie, frowning as he checked another of the scopes. “Hopefully we can hit hyperspace before it constitutes a real problem.”  
“How long until the calculations are ready?” asked Qui-Gon.  
“A couple of minutes.”  
“How long until we lose all power?”  
“A couple of minutes.” It was Anakin who answered this time, concentrating on keeping the ship close to the Executor and away from its guns.  
The mood in the cockpit became anxious, only Qui-Gon maintaining his steady calm. Even Padmé’s dark eyes were wide with fear as she watched the looming shapes of the CLONE ships on the monitor.  
The ship rocked as another barrage caught them on the starboard side.   
“We’ve lost another shield,” said Anakin, his brow glistened with sweat.  
“Great!” Olie punched another set of co-ordinates into the console, “We need to get clear of this ship!”  
“We can’t go into hyperspace yet?” asked Padmé from behind the pilot.  
“We’re not clear enough of the gravity field, sweetheart,” Olie said coolly. “Right Anakin, I hope you’re ready as we’re gonna have to fly through this mess.”  
Even the sceptical Olie could not help but be quietly impressed by the young man’s obvious ability as he pursued an erratic and ever-changing course that prevented the heavy, sluggish ships of the CLONE from fixing on the shield-less cruiser. Fortunately it was easily manoeuvrable; twisting and turning, dodging and diving - soon everyone on board the ship was reacquainted with the contents of their stomach.  
“Are we out of their gravity yet?” Qui-Gon wasn’t sure how much longer they could last against the CLONE. It would only take one more hit and they would be little more than space-dust.  
“Almost.” Anakin kept his eyes fixed on the console as they plunged into yet another head-spinning dive. It was looking promising. “Wait, we’re free!”  
Pulling back on the controls, Olie closed his eyes, praying for a miracle.  
As Olie pulled back on the controls, Qui-Gon closed his eyes, asking the Force to guide them safely away from their enemies.  
There was a collective sigh of relief as the familiar streaks of starlight filled the cockpit and the CLONE blockade disappeared from the monitors. Although they were out of immediate danger, not all the red lights had disappeared from the console. Only Padmé, Anakin and Olie were left in the cockpit, Qui-Gon and Panaka having gone to report to the Queen.  
“What does that mean?” asked Padmé pointing to a flickering red light close to the engine readouts.  
Seeing that Anakin was busy, Olie switched his attention to the relevant read-outs. “It means the hyperdrive is leaking.”  
“Leaking?” Despite the casual tone of the pilot, Padmé knew it was potentially a very serious problem.  
Olie smiled grimly as he checked the damage report, “It’s worse than I thought, we’re gonna have to drop out of hyperspace at some point to get the damage repaired. It’s not going to get us all the way to Coruscant.”  
“Can’t we patch it up with something?”  
“No, it’s impossible to repair without removing the engine.”   
“The Queen is not going to accept this…”  
“Sweetheart we ain’t going to get to Coruscant, not on this engine anyway.”  
“I hate to add to the problems but the hyperdrive’s faulty,” interjected Anakin, pointing to a monitor readout in front of him. “It’s not taking us to Coruscant.”  
“And I thought it couldn’t get any worse!” groaned Olie, looking over to where Anakin was pointing.  
“What do you mean?” Padmé wondered how she was going to explain all these problems to the Queen.  
“The navicomputer has scrambled the co-ordinates,” explained Olie, wishing he was sitting on a nice beach somewhere not attempting to fly a ship that was disintegrating around them. “Instead of taking us into the Core, it seems to be taking us to the Outer Rim.”

“What is the Jedi Temple like, Master Kenobi?” Rabé and Eirtaé were quizzing him about Coruscant to while away the time aboard the ship. “We have only ever seen pictures of it in books.”  
“Well it’s larger than the Palace in Threed,” he explained, finding the female attention a novel experience. “It provides a living space for hundreds of Jedi, from young to old. Most of the public spaces are very grand, but our living quarters are not much better than a cabin on this cruiser.”  
“Are there really hundreds of Jedi?” Eirtaé looked delighted, “And are they all as brave as you and Master Jinn?”  
“Well I am not sure if they are as brave as Qui-Gon but most of them are braver than me.”  
“Oh, don’t say that,” frowned Rabé, smoothing a stray curl behind her ear with her fingers, “we all think you are very brave. To stand up to the CLONE I mean.”  
“Well thank you Rabé, but I am merely doing my duty…”  
There was a clatter as the door slid open and Padmé ran into the hold, red-faced and panting. “Is Captain Panaka here?”  
“No, Padmé,” replied Obi-wan calmly, “he’s inspecting the engine damage with Qui-Gon…”  
“Thank you,” she gasped and immediately left, the door closing behind her.  
“Is Padmé always in such a rush?” asked Obi-wan to the two handmaidens, who were sharing concerned glances with the taciturn Queen. During the conversation, the Queen had sat to one side, sometimes contributing to the chatter but mostly she was silent. Her painted face was now pensive, her dark eyes only shadows as to her inner thoughts.  
“Not usually,” replied Rabé. “There must be something very wrong.”  
“We wonder if we are in more danger than we first thought?” said the Queen suddenly, her stilted accent very loud in the quiet hold.  
“With your permission your Highness I will proceed to the cockpit to find out,” said Obi-wan respectfully, rising from his makeshift seat, a box of consumables.  
“Please stay here, Master Kenobi,” asked Eirtaé, looking at him imploringly; “Tell us more about the life of a Jedi Knight.”  
“It helps take our mind away from the danger,” explained Rabé, smoothing the skirts that swept around her. “I think the Queen would like to hear more.”

“If we are going to land then we must consider the Queen’s safety,” said Panaka, as he and Qui-Gon returned to the cockpit with Padmé. “Where are we exactly?”   
“Somewhere in the Outer Rim,” said Ric Olie helpfully, leaning back in his chair. Despite the ship being on autopilot, he and Anakin were keeping a close eye on the scopes to ensure that no more nasty surprises came their way.  
“Close to the middle of nowhere as far as the Republic is concerned.” Qui-Gon studied the star chart on the monitor for a moment. “Hmmm, this is interesting,” he mused, stroking his beard thoughtfully.  
“What is interesting?” asked Padmé, moving closer to the Jedi, her pretty, oval face bathed in the blue light from the console.  
“We’re not that far from Tatooine.”  
Anakin’s eyes lit up.  
“We must be way off course,” commented Captain Panaka, peering over the Jedi’s shoulder to see for himself.  
“We are, but Tatooine will be perfect,” explained Qui-Gon. It’s small, out of the way, and settlements are disparate and scattered. We should not attract unwanted attention.”  
“Is that the desert planet?” Padmé’s knowledge of the system was patchy.  
Qui-Gon nodded. “Obi-wan and I are familiar with the system and since it is also Anakin’s home there should be no problem with finding the parts we need.”   
“There is one small problem,” pointed out Captain Panaka, not wishing to put a dampener on the Jedi’s enthusiasm. “It’s controlled by the Hutts.”  
“They may be a risk yes. But there is no alternative,” said Qui-Gon firmly.  
“If they represent a threat to the Queen,” said Padmé boldly, aligning herself with the Captain, “we cannot expose her to...”  
“Captain Panaka, Padmé,” interjected Qui-Gon before the hysteria mounted, “the Queen can remain in the ship, she does not have to come into contact with any Hutts. Besides, it is likely they have no interest in Naboo.”  
“They might seek to exploit the CLONE’s invasion,” complained Captain Panaka.  
“Then do you have any better suggestions?” asked the Jedi Master patiently. “We know from the condition of the engine that we cannot travel much further from our present position.”  
“No,” Panaka was forced to admit.  
“I don’t think the Queen would like it that you are deciding what is best for her without her knowledge, Master Jinn,” said Padmé tersely; “it is not the way we do things on Naboo. Perhaps you ought to run it past her first?”  
“There is no time, my lady,” said Qui-Gon authoritatively; “We have to repair the engine otherwise we will not make it to Coruscant. I am sure that the Queen will see the wisdom of my decision.”  
“I would not assume anything about the Queen,” replied Padmé her dark eyes flashing.  
“I do not, my lady,” Qui-Gon looked at her, a slight smile playing around his lips, “and in normal circumstances I would appreciate her input. But at this time we cannot afford to delay.”  
“And I don’t think I need to add that we really need to land soon,” added Ric Olie, gesturing towards yet another red flashing light that had appeared on the console.  
Finally the young handmaiden backed down, “Very well, Master Jinn, we will accept your plan on behalf of the Queen.”  
“Set a course for Tatooine,” said Qui-Gon to Anakin.  
“With pleasure,” murmured Anakin, almost giddy with the though of going home.  
The Jedi turned back to the sulky handmaiden, “I am sorry for my apparent disregard for your Queen’s safety Padmé but I do appreciate your concerns. Come, we will go and discuss them with her.”

Beneath her regal composure, Queen Amidala was anxious that the Jedi considered it safe to expose her, and the ship, to the lawless environment of an Outer Rim planet. “We find it hard to justify this course of action, Master Jinn,” she said coldly, “your promised the Council that you would not risk our life unnecessarily.”  
“And indeed I will not,” replied the Jedi Master, remaining calm despite the pressure. “I am not expecting that you accompany me once we have landed on Tatooine, it would be far safer for you to remain here on board the ship.”  
“Is there no possibility that we can land and repair the damage ourselves?” went on the Queen, glancing over to Padmé.  
“I am afraid not, your Majesty,” reported Captain Panaka. “The shield generator needs new components, the hyperdrive is damaged beyond repair and we need more fuel to continue the journey to Coruscant.”   
She considered this for a moment. “Then I have no choice but to accept the decision taken by Master Jinn.”  
“Your Highness, all I can ask is that you have faith in my judgement,” said Qui-Gon simply, knowing that if his assessment of her was correct Queen Amidala would understand his reasoning. “And my word as a Jedi that we would not put you intentionally in danger.”  
The Queen retired for a moment to consider the strategy, conferring quietly with her handmaidens. “Very well,” she said finally, returning to the centre of the hold, “we agree with the decision of the Jedi. We will continue to Tatooine.”  
“Her Highness feels that as long as we remain away from populated areas we will be safe,” said Rabé, smoothing her skirts to hide the trembling of her hands.  
“And as long as a Jedi is retained for her protection at all times,” added Padmé looking at Qui-Gon steadily with her clear dark eyes.  
“We are sure that you have thought about this most carefully,” finished the Queen, “We will trust your judgement.”  
Qui-Gon and Obi-wan exchanged looks of relief, “You can be assured that we will endeavour to carry out your wishes, your Majesty.”


	4. Sand, glorious sand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arriving on Tatooine, Anakin, Qui-Gon, R2-D2 and Padme travel into the hot desert to find new parts for the hyperdrive engine in the Queen's ship. A fortunate meeting with Owen Lars reunites Anakin with his mother Shmi but he is asked to make a life-changing decision when Qui-Gon recognises his strength in the Force.
> 
> Meanwhile on Naboo, General Grievous plots the ascendency of the CLONE.

The Nubian cruiser landed on the desert surface in a tremendous cloud of dust, obscuring the view from the cockpit, the engines spluttering then dying. Meanwhile in the engine room, Anakin was extracting the hyperdrive engine with help from Padmé, who seemed to know plenty about the ship’s engineering.  
“Looks like the hyperdrive generator is gone,” she commented as they carefully removed the damaged section.  
“You know a lot about engines,” said Anakin, who was admiring her practical approach to the task.  
“Standard engineering in Year Two and advanced engineering when I took my Highers,” said Padmé coolly. “Did you think because I was a girl I wouldn’t know anything?”  
“On the contrary, it is more to do with your age,” said Obi-wan, who was extracting the damaged components from the shield generator nearby. “You cannot be older than sixteen, surely?”  
“I am eighteen,” asserted Padmé, getting up from where she had been crouching on the floor, “and two months.”  
“Then you are older than the Queen?”  
“Only by a couple of years.”  
“Still, your Queen was elected well before what most star systems would deem the age of maturity.”  
“We have an advanced education system,” explained Padmé, busy wrapping the hyperdrive in an old piece of cloth before putting it into a bag, “with a strong expectation of public service for all young people.”  
“Not much time for play, then,” said Anakin, wiping his greasy hands on his jerkin.  
“Sounds like the life of a Jedi,” smiled Obi-wan, handing Anakin the freed components to be added to the generator.  
“Yes,we grow up fast,” replied Padmé; both men noticed the slight tinge of sadness in her voice and wondered what sacrifices the young people of Naboo made in return for their intelligence.  
They returned to the hold; leaving Padmé chatting with Anakin, Obi-wan went over to Qui-Gon. “So what is our next move?”  
The elder Jedi looked thoughtfully at him. “The Queen has finally agreed that it would be safer for her to remain here with you, although she insists that one of her handmaidens goes with me in her stead.”  
“Are you sure that is wise, Master?”  
“They will take no decision to the contrary,” said Qui-Gon dryly, looking over to where Padmé, joined by the two remaining handmaidens, was conversing animatedly with Anakin. It pleased him to see that the young man was already making friends.  
“I wish that you would let me go instead.” Obi-wan knew that his Master was not completely recovered from their forced landing on Naboo, despite his attempts at healing using the Force.  
“It is of no consequence, Obi-wan,” replied Qui-Gon sternly. “You are in better shape to protect the Queen and it is likely that the CLONE will focus their efforts on finding her whereabouts before mine.”  
“But anyone would think that you had an ulterior motive for going, Master…” Immediately as he said it he realised he was correct; Qui-Gon’s eyes betrayed his intentions. “I’m right, aren’t I?”  
“Yes you are,” agreed Qui-Gon readily. “I must speak with Anakin’s mother again and seek to find out more about the source of this energy that seems to radiate from within him.”  
“Of course, I had quite forgot.” Obi-wan had to smile at Qui-Gon’s incessant focus on dreams and prophecies.  
“Remember the Queen’s safety is your paramount concern, not mine.” Seeing the troubled face of his friend, Qui-Gon clapped his shoulder. “Focus, Obi-wan. After all, as I said, your job may be more difficult than mine.”  
They walked over to the ship’s hatchway where Rabé, Padmé, and Anakin were waiting for them. Stepping forward, Rabé handed the bag containing the generator and other broken components to Qui-Gon. “Don’t forget this, Master Jinn,” she said shyly, awed by the presence of the Jedi Master.  
“Why, thank you,” smiled Qui-Gon, taking it from her hands. “Without this our mission would be wasted.”  
“We thought you might like to take our droid, R2 D2 with you,” continued the handmaiden, indicating the droid behind her. “He could be useful.”  
“Yes he might be, that’s very thoughtful,” said Qui-Gon, not sure which handmaiden he was addressing. They all looked the same to him.  
“Her name’s Rabé,” whispered Anakin helpfully.  
“Yes, thank you, Rabé.” He made a silent promise to make more effort to get to know the three handmaidens. “Now which one of you is coming with us?”  
“I am, Master Qui-Gon,” said Padmé. As the eldest of the three handmaidens it had seemed most suitable for her to take on the mission. Having discarded her usual attire of orange cloak and long gown, she was wearing a simple dark blue tunic and black pants more befitting for the desert environment. Her long brown hair was braided closely about her head.  
“I hope Captain Panaka has told you of my reservations.”  
“You won’t have to worry about me at all,” insisted Padmé, “or look after me. I will merely be an observer.”  
Qui-Gon smiled. “Then I only ask that you to stay close to me and Anakin at all times. No wondering off and getting into trouble.”  
“I will be as good as gold.” She couldn’t help a slight smile cross her face; “You will hardly notice me.”  
Gesturing to Anakin and the stumpy droid he started to leave the ship. “Come on then, we better get going.”  
“Good luck in your mission, Master,” called Obi-wan after him, whilst Rabé waved goodbye.  
Beeping a goodbye, Artoo Detoo trundled down the ramp behind the three humans, pleased to be going on this unexpected adventure.

“Do you know where we are?”  
After a few miles into the featureless desert, Padmé and Qui-Gon were beginning to despair that they would find anything resembling a town or city. All they had come across so far were various types of droids, which Artoo had tried to communicate with but not with much success.  
“I think so,” replied Anakin, thinking the rocky mesa on the horizon did look slightly familiar. “But,” he said apologetically, “it means we’re miles away from any settlements.”  
“Great,” Padmé pulled a very un-ladylike face.  
They went over to where R2 was bleeping urgently at a bemused Qui-Gon. “I’m sorry little thing,” he was saying, “I don’t understand you.”  
Artoo bleeped and whistled at Anakin and Padmé in the vain hope that someone would be able to translate droid.  
“You’re right,” said Anakin to the droid, which prompted a fresh volley of noise from R2. “Yes, sometimes the Jawas do pass this way.”  
Padmé stared at him. “You understand what he’s saying to you?”  
“Yes,” replied Anakin, “don’t you?”  
“No,” sighed Padmé, rolling her eyes. “It’s not exactly normal for humans to understand droid.”  
Anakin shrugged. “I’ve worked with them a lot,” he said by way of explanation.  
“A useful skill though,” agreed Qui-Gon. “Tell me Anakin, what are these curious things we keep coming across?”  
“They’re moisture vaporators,” said Anakin, “for converting water from the atmosphere.”  
“That would make sense,” said Qui-Gon, looking at the endless miles of desert around them. Even though he was familiar with Tatooine it still struck him that there was no sign of water or even precipitation; everywhere was so dry and parched.  
“Can we get any water from them?” Padmé poked and prodded the one nearest to them.  
“Not easily,” said Anakin. “The ones in the deep desert are usually piped away to the homesteads and farms.”  
“That’s no good. Oh, are you alright Master Qui-Gon?” asked Padmé with gentle concern. She saw how tired the Jedi looked.  
“I could be better,” he grimaced, “but we best keep going.”  
“Are you sure you know where you’re going?” she turned to Anakin who was still attempting to get his bearings.  
“I thought I did,” admitted the young man, “but it’s been a while.” He was trying to reach out with his feelings, using his instinct to guide them; however, for some reason that particular ability was refusing to work.  
“Maybe we could use Artoo?” Padmé turned to the droid. “Do you think you can find anything with your scanners?” she asked.  
While Artoo opened a flap and extended a small probe-like projection, Qui-Gon was in the middle of his own intense concentration as he reached out with the Force, trying to ascertain if he could feel any close sources of energy. Creeping outwards, negotiating his way through the twists and turns of energy pockets, much too small to indicate any large lifeforms, sending out new tentacles of feeling… searching until he found something… “Oh.”  
Padmé ran over to where the Jedi Master had tumbled onto the sand. “What happened?”  
Taking the young woman’s hand, Qui-Gon stumbled to his feet. “I don’t know,” he said finally, wiping his brow, glistening with sweat. “I… I think we should rely on Artoo to find our way.”  
Concerned that he had sensed danger approaching, Padmé looked into the distance but she saw nothing out of the ordinary.  
“Something most… peculiar. In the Force,” he said, seeing her quizzical expression, “I’ve never felt such strength before.” He could not but wonder if it was something to do with the young man standing next to them, blissfully unaware of the maelstrom about him.

“It’s so hot,” moaned Padmé. After walking for so long in the sun, the heat was beginning to get to all of them. They had come woefully unprepared, with hardly enough water or hats to provide shade. In desperation, Padmé had pulled her tunic over her head. She knew she looked silly but she hardly cared anymore. “I don’t know why anyone would want to live here.”  
“There’s a legend that it wasn’t always a desert,” remarked Anakin, recalling wistfully the stories that his mother used to tell him as a boy. “Once there were forests and lakes, but the Gods dried up the land when the people stopped worshipping them.”  
“I cannot imagine that’s true,” scoffed the handmaiden, glancing over to Anakin, “it sounds like a story to tell children.”  
“But a nice story all the same,” muttered Anakin, chafing under her assumed scepticism.  
Qui-Gon had retreated into his cloak, giving him the appearance of an old man of the desert. “It amazes me that this planet has not been abandoned. But humanoids have done well to colonise most of the uninhabitable planets of the Galaxy.”  
“That’s not strictly true,” objected Padmé, “other species can do just as well as humanoids, better in fact. They can live with their environment, not try to control it. See how Coruscant has ended up, polluted and crowded.”  
“That is true,” conceded Qui-Gon, wondering what kind of education they had on Naboo to turn out such intelligent and insightful, if wilful, young people.  
“Naboo is lovely and cool at this time of year,” said Padmé, feeling homesick, “and even if it is hot, you can put your feet into the fountain or cool mountain stream.”  
“Tell us more about Naboo,” begged Anakin, thinking it would help to take his mind away from the scorching heat. Fortunately, Padmé could speak for hours about the temperate climate of Naboo, its lakes and mountains, its waterfalls, the warm moist air and fresh breezes. “I was born in the Lake Country,” she told them, “we were surrounded on all sides by mountains and lakes. I grew up to love the water; our house was right on the lake’s edge. Everyday we would swim out to one of the islands in the lake and swim back again before we went to school.” In return she asked Anakin to tell them about his life.  
“There’s not much to tell,” said the young man shyly. However, she pressed him until eventually he gave in and told her how he had come to Tatooine at a young age - he could not remember where he was born or where he had travelled to the desert planet from. Sold at a slave auction in Mos Eisley, his mother became the property of the Hutts, a criminal gangster family who ruled the North of Tatooine with an iron grip. At the Hutts chaotic and violent court, life was hard but he had grown up knowing that amidst the drudgery of their lives, he and his mother had each other. Then things suddenly changed when his mother was sold to a Tatooine farmer to pay for Gardulla the Hutt’s gambling debts. Days later, Anakin was sold to a smuggler operating out of Mos Eisley. “That was a good time,” admitted the young man, “I learned so much from old Watto.” When the smuggler was arrested by the Republic and fined heavily, he was sold to the CLONE and was taken to serve on the Executor, far away from his adopted home. “And that’s when I met Masters Jinn and Kenobi. They saved my life.”  
“You helped us in return,” smiled the Jedi Master, impressed by his optimism. Despite the upheaval and hardship Anakin had experienced in his relatively short life, there was no rancour or bitterness at all in his story, merely a simple hope that one day he, and his mother Shmi, would be free to live the lives they wanted.  
“It’s so barbaric,” said Padmé sympathetically, stunned by the reality of slavery, “you can really buy a person here?”  
“Yes.” He had been used to it his whole life – the continual buying and selling of lives – but the way she said it made it sound wrong. “You get used to it.”  
“I don’t think I’d ever get used to it,” said the young woman, aghast. “Where I come from people work for each other but nobody owns anybody.”  
“Some owners aren’t so bad,” said Anakin, scratching at the burns on his neck. “Watto was a great guy, he taught me how to pilot a ship and let me tinker with the engines when I wanted…”  
“But he was a criminal!” Doubting what kind of place she had come to, Padmé wondered if such things were really allowed go on under the auspices of the Republic. But then she was not even sure if she was still in the Republic.  
“You’ll find that most ways of living on Tatooine are regarded as criminal from the perspective of the Republic,” interjected Qui-Gon, realising that the young handmaiden had probably led a relatively upright and sheltered life compared to Anakin.  
“It must have been hard,” was all she could say.  
“Sometimes,” he said quietly, grateful for her understanding. Most people treated him like he was less than human because he was a slave but he did not have that sense with Padmé or Qui-Gon.  
Qui-Gon was grateful that the two young people had come with him. Listening to their chatter helped to take his mind from the heat and the nagging pain. But after a while, even they were talking less and less as their throats burned in the intense heat. The shimmering effect created by the heat along the horizon also made it difficult to distinguish rocky outcrops from populated settlements. So far they had found not even a sign of humanity except for the droids and when Padmé saw a figure in the distance, at first she thought she was hallucinating.  
But then the stumpy droid beeped helpfully.  
“We can see them Artoo,” said Qui-Gon.  
As they drew nearer, it became clear that the figure was a young man; he looked older than Anakin and Padmé but that may have been the effect of the scorching sun on his skin. Fairly tall, and stocky with a mop of darkish, wavy hair, the lad appeared to be either fixing or destroying one of the units they had seen earlier, attacking it with a wrench. Engrossed in his task, he didn’t immediately notice the little group approaching him.  
“I think he might help us,” said Anakin, feeling an odd sense of familiarity about the young man.  
“I feel it too,” said Qui-Gon, smiling when Anakin looked at him in astonishment.  
Padmé was more cautious. “What’s the plan? Are we going to tell him why we are here?”  
“I don’t see why not,” said Qui-Gon confidently. “I sense no malice in the young man.”  
“I am certain the Queen wouldn’t approve.”  
“How else can we explain our presence here?” replied Qui-Gon without a trace of anxiety. “I am sure the Queen would not mind him knowing of her plight. He may be more willing to help us.”  
“We are taking a great risk,” replied Padmé firmly.  
“It is all a risk, Padmé,” said Qui-Gon kindly. “But my instincts tell me there is nothing to fear. Trust me.”  
As they approached the older boy, Qui-Gon called out to him, “Hello there!”  
Looking up from his work, he eyed the Jedi and his young companions with disdain. “Can I help you?”  
“Yes, we’re lost,” explained Qui-Gon, sensing that his hostility was born of fear rather than aggression. “Can you direct us to the nearest settlement?”  
Relaxing, the young man laughed, “You’re a long way away from anywhere, old man. Anchorhead’s over two days walk from here.”  
Padmé was horrified, “Two days?”  
The name Anchorhead seemed familiar to Anakin; for some reason he felt that it was strongly connected to his mother.  
“Been walking for long have you?” asked the young man. Strangers were not common on Tatooine, especially ones that just appeared in the desert, and he remained wary.  
“We came from over that way,” said Qui-Gon, pointing to the horizon. “Our ship broke down about five hours walk from here.”  
Owen looked at them as though they were crazy, a glimmer of admiration seeping into his defensiveness. “You’re lucky not to have passed out in this heat.”  
“We’re looking for a mechanic,” continued Qui-Gon, “do you know anyone that might be able to help us?”  
“I’m sure you could find one in Anchorhead or Mos Espa,” he replied, warming to the group now that they did not seem to want money, to sell him farm machinery or tell him about their wonderful new religion. “There’s all kinds of dealers. Come and talk to my father, he can point you in the right direction.”  
“That would be very kind of you,” smiled the Jedi. “My name is Qui-Gon Jinn and what might they call you?”  
“I’m Owen Lars,” said Owen, shaking his hand firmly. He looked at the two younger members of the group, “And you are…?”  
“My name is Padmé Naberrie,” said Padmé coolly, shaking his hand politely.  
“Anakin Skywalker,” said Anakin, holding out his hand as Owen’s attention turned to him.  
“Skywalker?” Owen frowned, “that’s funny. My father married a Skywalker… Shmi Skywalker.”  
“Shmi Skywalker?” Anakin’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “She’s my mother!”  
“Oh, so you’re Anakin,” Owen looked at him more closely. “I thought you’d be much older the way she goes on about you.”  
Qui-Gon was used to the Force moving in mysterious ways but now he felt vindicated. “How far is your home from here?”  
“It’s not far.” Despite his reservations Owen was getting slightly more excited about the strange people he had met, not least because he had spotted Qui-Gon’s lightsaber.  
“That’s good,” said Padmé, almost ready to drop. She suspected that Qui-Gon was too.  
“Do you ever get used to this sun?” asked Qui-Gon as they started walking towards the twin suns that floated serenely on the horizon, staining the sky a rosy pink.  
“Yeah, when you’ve lived here all your life,” laughed Owen, shifting the load in the pack over his broad shoulders. “So where have you come from?”  
“We’ve come from Naboo,” replied Qui-Gon, “We were on our way back to Coruscant when our ship was attacked.”  
“You in trouble or something?” Owen hadn’t heard anything so exciting in ages; life normally consisted of doing chores, extracting sand from his boots, more mind-numbing chores and the occasional excursion to chase womprats - hardly the stuff that made great legends.  
“It’s a long story,” admitted Qui-Gon, “maybe one which I will tell you once I have had a drink. The air is very dry here.”  
Owen rummaged in his pack. He handed Qui-Gon a container of some kind. “Here have some water. Sorry there’s not much left, I’ve been out here all day.”  
“Are we nearly there?” Padmé was exhausted after all their walking.  
“Yeah,” said Owen, pointing to a spot closer than the horizon. “It’s just over there.”  
Following his gesture, she saw a strange domed entrance rising out of the sand, the first of several domes that surrounded a central courtyard cut deep into the rock that underlay the sand. Various parts of machinery and droids littered the desert around settlement, shining dimly in the last vestiges of the dying suns’ light.  
“Shmi should be inside,” said Owen cheerfully, “go on down. I’ll just put these away and then I’ll join you.”  
Joyful at the thought of seeing his mother after six long years, Anakin ran quickly down the staircase that led into the central courtyard at the heart of the homestead. “Shmi?” he called out excitedly.  
“I’m here, Anakin.”  
He swung round to see a thin, friendly looking woman, dressed in simple blue dyed garments, standing in one of the entrances cut into the circular wall of the courtyard. She had an amused smile on her worn face, as though she had been waiting for him. “Mum!” he rushed over and embraced her.  
“I’m so glad to see you again,” she said, tears brimming in her blue eyes. She held him away from her, looked at him critically. “Look at how thin you are,” she fussed over him, “and your hair needs cutting…”  
“Leave it off,” grumbled Anakin, extracting himself from her grip. “It’s not like the CLONE wanted to take proper care of us.”  
Coming into the courtyard with Qui-Gon, Padmé tried to suppress a smirk when she saw Anakin’s reception from his mother. But she couldn’t help snorting as the giggle escaped through her nose, quickly turning it into a cough.  
This drew Shmi’s attention over to them, “Oh hello, Master Jinn. You found my son for me!”  
“Well, if the truth be told, Anakin found me.”  
“But that is not all,” she said perceptively, regarding the Jedi with a peculiar expression.  
“They need our help,” Anakin nudged his mother, “But first we need a drink.”  
“Oh, yes, where are my manners.” Immediately she ushered them inside, “Please, come in and sit down you must be exhausted from walking in the suns.”  
Leaving the others to sit down, Anakin went over to help Shmi. “I hear you are married now.”  
“Yes,” she said, ruffling his hair, “but I’ll tell you more about that later. Take these over to your friends. Oh and Anakin please take that dirty bag off the table and put it somewhere else, I only cleaned this morning.”  
“And don’t let me tell you again,” giggled Padmé as Anakin came to deliver the drinks and tidy the bag away.  
“Shut up,” he responded, sticking his tongue out as he went past her.  
Provoked, Padmé tried to slap him but he was too fast and had disappeared off to the garage before she could reach him.  
Qui-Gon chuckled, “You two seem to be getting on well.”  
“Anakin’s okay,” said Padmé, playing with the button on the cuff of her tunic “but he can be annoying. Sometimes he knows too much about what I’m thinking.”  
“Well, I think he likes you.”  
“Great, that’s all I need.” Padmé had caught Anakin looking at her occasionally with a look that reminded her of a puppy dog.  
“Don’t be so hard on him,” urged Qui-Gon, “that young man has a great future ahead of him.”  
Before Padmé could ask why, Shmi came over with more drinks and snacks, which were gratefully received. Already the first round of drinks had been drained dry by the famished pair.  
“That was quick,” laughed their hostess, who placed another jug of water on the table before taking a seat next to Qui-Gon. “So, may I ask what has brought you here?”  
“We were taking the Queen of Naboo to Coruscant when…” began Qui-Gon but Anakin chose that moment to come bounding back into the living space.  
“Any more water left in that…” He petered out as three pairs of eyes settled on him. “Carry on, I’ll get my own water.”  
“Where was I?” said Qui-Gon. “Oh yes. We were escorting the Queen of Naboo to Coruscant when we were forced to land here…”  
“But Coruscant is in the Core,” said Shmi with some surprise, “how did you end up out here?”  
“Serious hyperdrive malfunction,” said Anakin, taking a seat at the table.  
“We were attacked by the CLONE as we left Naboo,” explained Qui-Gon; he sensed that Padmé was not very happy about the honesty with which he was telling the story but he ploughed on nonetheless. “We sustained severe damage to the hyperdrive, as Anakin says, and to the shield generators. Plus we don’t have enough fuel to get to Coruscant, which is why we landed on the first available inhabited planet.”  
“You were attacked by the CLONE?” Shmi looked confused. “I thought they were a peaceful movement?”  
“Not any more,” said Padmé crossly, “they claim to be offering protection but it is a lie.” She turned to Shmi, her face animated with passion. “The CLONE have invaded my home. We have no weapons and no way of defending ourselves against their army. We are at their mercy! The Queen feels that the only way we can stop this act of aggression is to go to the Senate and demand that something be done. It is imperative that we get to Coruscant as quickly as we can, whilst there is still a Naboo left to defend!”  
When she finished, Shmi took the trembling girl’s hands in hers. “If the Queen is as passionate as you, my dear, then you will have nothing to fear. I do not know much about the Republic but I do not know how they could ignore such a heartfelt plea.” Turning back to Qui-Gon, she continued, “Anakin and I will help you in any way that we can, isn’t that right, Anakin?”  
“Yes, first we need to get some new parts for the ship,” said the young man; listening to Padmé’s impassioned plea had only increased his determination to help his new friends.  
“You should try Mos Espa,” said Shmi, glancing thoughtfully at her son. “Remember Colsan? He’s bound to have the parts you need.” Colsan was a spare parts dealer who had once taken pity on the slave and her young son; after watching them toiling in the Hutt’s court, he had regularly brought them food and clothes when he could.  
Once again, Qui-Gon found himself wondering at the story of Shmi. There was something hidden beneath her calm exterior, something that hinted at traumas and decisions made… But the feeling was slippery in the grasp of his mind and Qui-Gon had to be content with only wondering how such a spirited and perceptive woman had ended up as a slave in the back of beyond. “Then we need to find someone to fix the engine…”  
“Anakin can do that, if he hasn’t volunteered already. “He’s very good at fixing things, even though as his mother I would say that, wouldn’t I?” If Shmi knew he was thinking about her rather than Anakin, she did not show it. Yet there was a peculiar light in her eyes that suggested she was more interested in the Jedi than her calm demeanour indicated.  
Qui-Gon noticed that instead of being embarrassed, Anakin was almost basking in his mother’s words. It was clear he did not get much praise from others. “My mother never said anything good about me. I remember the day I was taken to be trained as a Jedi she said she expected to see me return in a year.” He looked wistful for a moment. “But she never saw me again.”  
“I imagine she knew she would miss you terribly and wanted you to do badly so that you would return,” replied Shmi.  
“Do you really think this Colsan can help us?” Padmé was filled with concern that they could be wasting their time. And time was precious.  
“You wait until you see his place,” said Anakin confidently, “it’s piled high with stuff! There’s a lot of spacecraft that pass through Mos Espa because of the Hutts.”  
“To many they are criminals,” said Shmi, starting to clear away the empty cups, “and I have learned to respect that judgement. Only criminals, lowlifes and mercenaries will work with them; even the pirates of Corellia who have little honour regarded the Hutts with disgust. They have their fingers in almost every illegal thing that goes on here and around the Rim territories.”  
“Then we need to avoid attracting their attention if we possibly can,” cautioned Qui-Gon.

“My lady, if you can hear me… please, you must make contact…”  
“What shall we do, your Majesty?”  
In the main hold, Queen Amidala and her two remaining handmaidens Eirtaé and Rabé, were watching a very bad transmission of a message from Governor Alaric Kassai. In the absence of Obi-wan, who was inspecting the damage to the ship with Ric Olie, the Queen was forced to make a quick decision. “We must answer our Counsellor, he might bring news of hope.”  
Leaning forward, Eirtaé pressed the button on the console which enabled them to respond to Kassai’s pleas. “We hear you, our Counsellor. What news do you have of Naboo?”  
“Thank goodness, your Majesty, to know that you are safe,” replied Kassai’s hologram. “We were all so worried…”  
“Never mind our safety,” intoned the Queen, “what of the invasion?”  
“The CLONE have assured us that no aggression was meant, your Grace,” said the hologram hastily. “Instead it was only concern for Naboo that prompted their actions. They have shown to us intelligence proving that the Hunnites intend to declare war upon Naboo; the army is for our protection.”  
The Queen wondered how to act upon this news. Should they believe the CLONE? “What does Counsellor Bibble say?”  
“Your Majesty… please repeat I did not hear…” The transmission seemed to be breaking up.  
“What is the opinion of the Council?” she repeated, louder and more clearly.  
“You must return to us, your Majesty,” said Kassai, the hologram suddenly clear again. “The Republic can do little against the Hunnites, they will plunge Naboo into darkness…”  
“What should we do, your Highness?” asked Eirtaé, holding the Queen’s hand tightly as they listened.  
Biting her red-stained lips, the Queen was convinced that she needed another opinion before she could make a decision. “We demand to speak with Counsellor Bibble.”  
The hologram flickered again and hissed with static: “We must accept the CLONE’s support, your Majesty. Without it the Hunnites will kill our people, your people…”  
The door to the hold slid open and Obi-wan came in; “Your Majesty, we have inspected the damage and it seems that…” He stopped when he saw the hologram projected onto the console, the Queen and her handmaidens staring at it intently.  
“You must return to us, your Highness! Your people need you…”  
Running over to the console, Obi-wan immediately turned off the transmission and the hologram faded away. For a moment nobody said anything.  
“Master Kenobi, we wish you had not done that,” complained the Queen, clearly affected by the message.  
“I understand that, your Majesty, but we must be careful.” Obi-wan was not immune to her distress. “Tell me, did you respond to the message?”  
“We did,” admitted Eirtaé, “we hoped the Counsellor might have good news.”  
“This is not good,” said Obi-wan, unable to hide his anxiety. “The CLONE are likely to be tracking us. They will use messages such as as a means of determining our position.”  
The Queen realised that her actions had placed them all in danger. “Forgive me, Master Kenobi,” she said, her voice shorn of all Naboo protocol, betraying the sixteen year old girl beneath the heavy make-up and pomp. “I needed to know that my people were safe.”  
“I understand that, your Highness, but the CLONE will only exploit your concern. You must be strong,” said Obi-wan kindly, concerned about the state of the Queen. He sensed great anxiety underneath her imperious demeanour. “Promise me that if any more attempts are made to communicate with the ship, you will alert me to them first.”  
“I promise, Master Kenobi.” She was torn between the need to protect her people and those on board the ship but it seemed that whilst they were grounded on Tatooine she could do little to help either. “If you don’t mind, I will retire to my cabin now. Eirtaé will stay to inform you of the message’s content.”  
“Of course, your Majesty.” Obi-wan watched in concern as she walked slowly out of the hold, followed by Rabé. He hoped that Qui-Gon would be swift in his mission for he did not know how much longer he could allay the Queen’s fears - or how quickly the CLONE would find them.

With evening falling, Qui-Gon decided that they would stay the night with Anakin’s family, which was happily agreed by Shmi. After dinner, Anakin was relating an amusing tale about Jabba the Hutt when Qui-Gon felt his comlink buzzing and reached into his robe to answer it. As he did so, he saw that Padmé was looking at him out the corner of her eye. He would have to be careful. “Please excuse me for a moment.” Getting up, he went out into the courtyard; the cool air of the evening finally making the desert planet a pleasant place to be. “Come in, Obi-wan.”  
“Hello Master. I have some news to report - the Queen has been sent a transmission from Naboo.”  
“Did she answer it?”  
“Unfortunately yes,” said the tinny voice of the Jedi Knight, “I was not there to prevent her.”  
“I imagine she found it hard to ignore,” said Qui-Gon sympathetically. “What did the message say?”  
“It was from Counsellor Kassai - he urged the Queen to return to Naboo, claiming that the CLONE are not seeking to invade but are offering them protection from the Hunnites who are planning the real invasion.”  
“This is a serious claim,” murmured Qui-Gon, “how did the Queen take it?”  
“Not very well, as you can imagine,” came Obi-wan’s tinny voice. “She is afraid that she can do little to help her people.”  
“It will not be easy but you must help her to remain positive,” commanded Qui-Gon. “She is only young and it must be a difficult time for her. We cannot afford for her to lose her nerve.”  
“I understand, Master. My main concern is that the CLONE will be able to trace us now they have made contact with the ship.”  
“I agree, we must find the parts to repair the ship as quickly as we can,” said Qui-Gon. “Time is not on our side this evening but we should be able to do more tomorrow. Until we return, protect the Queen at all costs.”  
“Yes Master. Over and out.” Obi-wan’s voice winked out.  
It was peaceful out in the courtyard and Qui-Gon remained there for a moment, allowing the cool breeze to whisper across his face and through his beard. However, he knew that there would be a concerned handmaiden waiting to hear his news so he returned inside to the warm kitchen.  
“What is happening?” demanded Padmé as soon as she saw the Jedi re-enter, “it’s something to do with Naboo isn’t it?”  
“You should be a Jedi,” teased Qui-Gon, taking his seat at the table. “But you’re right, the Queen has received a message from the Council asking her to return to Naboo. According to the CLONE, they only seek to offer protection against an intended invasion by the Hunnites.”  
“That’s ridiculous,” Padmé scoffed. “What does the Queen say?”  
“As you might expect, the message has placed her in a quandary. We are also concerned that by answering the message it will enable the CLONE to track her to Tatooine…”  
“Then we cannot sit around,” cried Padmé, immediately standing up, “we must do something!”  
“There’s not much you can do,” said Owen matter-of-factly. He had joined them in the kitchen whilst he waited for his father to return home. “It’s too dark now.”  
Speaking gently, Qui-Gon sought to calm her. “Listen to Owen. We must be patient.”  
“I’m not afraid of the dark,” scowled Padmé, “Master Qui-Gon I…”  
“It’s not the dark that’s the problem,” continued Owen, “there’s the sand people for a start and nothing will be open so you won’t be able to buy any parts until the morning. You could try the Jawas but I doubt you’d be able to find them without running into the sand people. So you’re stuck until morning.”  
“Who are these sand people?”  
“They’re tribes of nomads who can be very aggressive if you run into them,” explained Shmi as she brought them over some snacks. “Nobody knows that much about them but when people around here go missing, it’s usually something to do with the sand people.”  
Dismayed, Padmé sat down again. “So we can’t do anything until tomorrow?”  
“No,” reiterated the elder Jedi.  
“We can go out early,” said Anakin, wanting to help her, not liking to see her so upset. “It won’t take that long to get to Mos Espa if we take the speeder. If that’s alright, Owen?”  
“Of course,” said his brother, chewing on a nut, “I was gonna go to Anchorhead but that can wait ’til afternoon.”  
“Okay, we’ll wait until morning,” agreed Padmé, finally defeated.  
“I better get some beds ready,” said Shmi, seeing that the young woman was tired; “I’ll go and see what space we have.”  
Left alone with Qui-Gon (Anakin helping his mother and Owen retiring to his own room) Padmé remained silent, feeling dispirited. Sensing her distress, Qui-Gon sought to calm her; “Take heart, my dear. The people of Naboo are strong and resourceful, they will find ways to hold out against the CLONE. I doubt that they will be able to do much in the short time we have been away.”  
“I suppose not.” His kind, calm words were having the desired effect. “You’re right, I just wish we could do more!”  
“You and the Queen are doing all you can. And if the people of Naboo are as strong and determined as you, Padmé Naberrie, I doubt very much that they will suffer too much under the CLONE.”

“So, you were going to tell me about your marriage to Cleeg?” Anakin asked casually as his mother rooted for blankets in the cupboard. Already a sizeable pile of soft yet worn sheets was loaded onto his outstretched arms.  
“Yes, I was,” replied Shmi, finally locating what she was looking for and emerging from the cupboard. “There is not much to tell really,” she continued, leaning against the wall. “We worked a lot together and I quickly became very fond of him - he is a good and kind man, unlike so many of my owners! It surprised me though when he said he wanted to free me and marry me - he is a man of few words, I had no idea.”  
“I should thank him.” Anakin was unsure how he should feel about his mum’s marriage. He trusted her that Cleeg was a good man but it had negated all his own future plans: once he had escaped the CLONE his aim had been to work hard and gain enough money to free his mother, buy her a house and some land and enable her to live in relative, Tatooine-style, comfort. Cleeg’s actions had made those aims redundant.  
“What are you thinking?” Shmi was regarding her son carefully, sensing the heady whirl of emotions in his head.  
“Does he make you happy?”  
“Yes he does.”  
“Then that is all that matters.”  
Closing the cupboard door, she looked at him critically. “I can tell you’re not happy! You would rather me be a slave would you?”  
“No, not at all.” Putting down the blankets, he gave his mother a hug, “It’s enough for me to know that you’re happy.”

“It’s a tight squeeze but I think we can fit you all in somewhere,” said Shmi, returning to the kitchen with her son. “Master Qui-Gon, you can have my old room. Padmé, I’m afraid I can only offer you a makeshift bed in the garage.”  
Anakin looked horrified, “But I’m sleeping in there, it’s hardly suitable for Padmé.”  
“Don’t worry,” said Padmé, too tired to care where she slept. “It’s only for one night.”  
“And you don’t mind sharing with Anakin?”  
“Does he snore?”  
“No, I do not,” said Anakin indignantly.  
“He talks in his sleep,” said Shmi playfully, ignoring her son’s grumpy expression, “well he used to as a little boy because of all the dreams he had…”  
“Excuse me,” began Anakin, looking at her crossly, “I don’t think Padmé needs to know…”  
“I think I can put up with that.” Padmé was trying not to laugh; she knew how mortifying parents could be.  
“I’m sorry we don’t have a proper room for you. I’d suggest you sleep in here but the security is not so good.”  
“Please don’t worry,” insisted Padmé, not liking the fuss. “I’ll hardly notice where I am, I’m so tired.”  
“Show her where everything is, Mum,” said Anakin, “I’ll wait here until you’re ready.”  
“Don’t worry, Anakin.” Shmi smiled; she could tell he was taken greatly by the bright, and obviously pretty, young woman.  
“Goodnight,” said Padmé to Master Qui-Gon as she left the room with Shmi.  
“Oh yes, good night,” Qui-Gon had hardly been listening to the domestic arrangements; he had been miles away, thinking about Naboo’s predicament.  
“I imagine Jedi are used to something grander,” said Anakin conversationally, taking a seat across from Qui-Gon and picking up a handful of nuts.  
“What? Oh you’d be surprised,” chuckled Qui-Gon, “I have slept in some awkward places; holes in the ground, caves, even in a rubbish dump once to keep warm. As a Jedi you have to get used to the outdoor life.”  
“So you’re not just sitting around on your bums in the Temple on Coruscant, as people seem to think?” asked Anakin. Over the years he had heard many rumours and legends about the Jedi.  
“Is that what people think?” queried the Jedi Master, leaning back in his chair, “I’d like to think we have a more active role but I suppose it has become confused over the years. We are both protectors of the Republic, its army if you like, and its spiritual guidance, if that makes sense?” Seeing Anakin nod, he continued, “Have you heard of the Force? Yes? Well, we obtain our strength and our power from the Force to keep the peace in the Galaxy. And yes, we have weapons,” he could see Anakin eyeing his lightsaber with fascination, “but we only use them for defence.”  
“The Jedi are not liked on Tatooine because there is little love for the Republic here. But I have heard negative things about the Jedi even within the Republic. Why is that?”  
“Oh, people have grown complacent,” explained the Jedi Master, the light from the spluttering candles casting his lined face into deep shadows. “There has been no attack on the Republic for so many years they have no idea how to deal with the threat presented by the CLONE. They forget that peace has to be carefully maintained.”  
“The people should remember,” frowned Anakin, popping another nut into his mouth; “The Jedi have done great things to keep the Republic safe, if the legends are true.”  
“Being forgotten is not so intolerable for the Jedi,” Qui-Gon pointed out. “In fact some would prefer it that way. For the Jedi do not crave attention, we do not seek fame or glory. Our greatest achievement is to protect the Republic, obtain the honour of our comrades and to understand the mysteries of the Force.” Before the young man could ask him any more questions he continued, “Tell me Anakin, what do you desire the most?”  
“To be a free man,” said Anakin without hesitation. It was an answer he had rehearsed over and over in his head for many years. Yet meeting the Jedi had changed his life completely and he wondered if it was more than mere coincidence. “And freeing all the slaves across the Galaxy,” he added so as not to appear selfish, “but as wishes go that seems pretty impossible.”  
“I wouldn’t be so sure, Anakin. If you believe in the Force, anything is possible.”  
The candles fluttered as a cool breeze blew in through the archway. Instinctively, Anakin shivered as it whispered into his thin robes but he was thinking more of Qui-Gon’s words and found himself transfixed by the Jedi’s clear eyes. They shone as bright as the stars he saw glittering each night, speaking to him of ancient wisdoms and offering the liberty that had once seemed so elusive to him.  
“Tell me more about these dreams of yours.”  
“They seem real to me, sometimes so real that I confuse them with what happens when I’m awake” replied Anakin, wondering what the significance was to the old Jedi.  
“Do you dream often?”  
“Most nights, sometimes in the day.”  
“Do these dreams ever come true?”  
He looked away from the searching eyes of the Jedi, playing with a spilt puddle of water on the table. “Sometimes… but why would you ask me that?”  
“The Jedi are attuned to many things, Anakin, that is one thing you will learn.”  
“It’s not a gift or anything,” complained Anakin, drawing the water into spiky lines, “well, not on Tatooine. Most people think I’m crazy.”  
“Most people fear difference,” said Qui-Gon, knowing that Force sensitivity would not always be an asset for a non-Jedi. “Others learn to embrace it.”  
Before Anakin could ask him what he meant, Shmi returned to the kitchen. “Sorry, am I interrupting?” she asked, seeing the serious expression on both their faces, wondering what they had been discussing.  
“Oh no,” replied Qui-Gon, “it’s well past my bedtime now anyway.”  
“Padmé’s in bed,” Shmi addressed Anakin, “I don’t think she’ll mind you going in. But,” she added as Anakin stood up, “get changed in here or somewhere else please.”  
Anakin grinned, “Of course!” Kissing her cheek, he grabbed a blanket from her hands and waved to the Jedi, “Goodnight!”  
“Goodnight, Anakin,” said Qui-Gon, watching him as he bounded out of the chamber, wondering where he got all his energy from and wishing he could have some.  
Shmi came over, “Can I get you something to drink, Master Qui-Gon?”  
“No, you sit down,” yawned the Jedi, “you’ve been on your feet all night.”  
“I’m used to it,” smiled Shmi, clearing away the beakers, “chasing after the men of this house keeps me permanently busy.”  
“Where is your husband this evening?”  
“He was over in Mos Eisley today but he should be back soon.” She paused to make some kind of sign – Qui-Gon assumed it was to ward off evil or similar - “It’s always a danger with the sand people.”  
“I hope he won’t mind us being here?”  
“No, no of course not.” Shmi smiled reassuringly, “It’s always a pleasure to have visitors, we get so few of them. Most people round here tend to stick to the larger settlements or if they go anywhere it’s off Tatooine.”  
“I take it most people think very little of this planet!”  
“It’s a backwater, definitely,” said Shmi, looking out into the darkness, gentle light coming from the globes in the courtyard. “But it is what I need. I’ve had far too much excitement for one lifetime.” Turning back to the Jedi Master, she smiled, “Now it’s Anakin’s turn.”  
“Yes,” he replied absently, his gaze fixed on the stars above. “How old is Anakin?”  
“I’m not sure; eighteen or nineteen seasons?” she replied; a season on Tatooine roughly translated to a year although with all the different planetary velocities and orbit patterns there had never been the possibility of setting a standard period of time across the Galaxy. “He looks younger.”  
“Yes, he is rather scrawny but nothing a good diet and exercise would not remedy,” mused the older Jedi, gazing past Shmi as though he were thinking of something deeper. “Anyway, I must get some sleep otherwise I will be no good to anyone tomorrow.”  
“Goodnight, Master Qui-Gon and thank you.” Shmi looked at him with awe, wondering what it was to be a Jedi, to have powers and wisdom far beyond what most beings could ever dream. “To have Anakin back home is the greatest gift ever given to me.”

Alone in his room, furnished simply with a table and bed, Qui-Gon took out his comlink and got in contact with Obi-wan. “Has the Queen decided what she will do?”  
“Yes, I have talked to the Queen at length and she agrees that continuing onto Coruscant remains the best course of action,” said Obi-wan’s voice.  
“Good,” agreed Qui-Gon. “We will be able to look for the parts we need tomorrow, Anakin will take us into Mos Espa early tomorrow morning. Speaking of which, I have decided what to do with Anakin.”  
“You have?”  
“The more time I spend with him, the more I notice how remarkable that young man is,” whispered Qui-Gon into the comlink, sitting on the creaky bed. “He has a connection to the Force that I have never seen before in someone untrained. It moves with his feelings, responds to his emotions directly. It is most peculiar.”  
“Do you think he has any control over it?”  
“No I don’t,” Qui-Gon shifted his legs, worn out after hours of walking. “I think he is oblivious to it. Only the dreams he has, and his ability to tune in to other peoples’ feelings, are evidence that he is different to others.”  
“You wish to train him?” Even across the desert, Obi-wan could sense that Qui-Gon’s curiosity was leading somewhere.  
“I would like to.”  
“Do you think the Council will admit him?” Obi-wan was sceptical. “He is older than most padawans.”  
“I know,” Qui-Gon sighed. “I propose to bring him with us to Coruscant and submit him to the tests.”  
“I wonder if Anakin will leave his home so readily? He has only just returned.”  
“That is an important question,” mused Qui-Gon, trying to make himself more comfortable on the ridiculously small bed. “I will speak to Anakin. Goodnight, Obi-wan.”

Feeling sore after a restless night on the floor, Anakin did not have much difficulty waking up early the next day. It was so early that the suns were only just peeping over the edge of the courtyard, casting deep shadows. Something was digging into his side. Turning over to get away from it, he found himself looking into a pair of dark eyes.  
“Morning.” Padmé lay on her makeshift bed, the covers pulled up tightly to her chin.  
Sitting up, Anakin rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “Did you sleep well?”  
“Yes I did thank you.” She had already fallen asleep by the time he had got to bed. “Although I woke up a couple of times.”  
“I hope that wasn’t anything to do with me.” Throwing back the blanket, he found a wrench that had been sharing his bed with him. No wonder he hadn’t slept much.  
“Only once.” As she sat up, dark curls fell loosely around her face, “You cried out.”  
“It might have been because of my dream.” It was hard not to stare at her; she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.  
“What did you dream about?”  
He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, “You were in it.”  
“Really?” Padmé came to the edge of the bed, interested, “What was I doing?”  
“You were stood looking over a great city,” he said hesitantly as he tried to grasp the elusive images that in the night had been so vivid. “I didn’t know where it was but there were huge buildings, larger than anything I’ve ever seen, and in the middle of them a massive building with four tall towers. But… but as you looked, the building caught fire and everything started to burn, and the towers collapsed and… I saw tears in your eyes. Then I… I don’t remember any more.” He felt awkward, wishing he had not told her. “It probably doesn’t mean anything.”  
“I don’t know. It could mean Naboo.” Padmé’s distracted mind was already thinking of all the terrible things that could happen under the CLONE.  
“What else woke you?” He was eager to put aside the thought of his dream; it unsettled him as much as it did Padmé.  
“Some kind of animal howling.”  
“Probably a womprat, they make all kinds of weird noises.”  
Womprats, Hutts, Sand People… she was getting used to all the different names and creatures on Tatooine. “Do you think we’ll see any Hutts and - what was it – Jawas today?” She watched him as he got up, seeing his scrawny chest as the sheet crumpled onto the floor.  
“Yeah we might see some Jawas, they’re not much to look at though.” Seeing her staring and realising he was half naked, Anakin blushed, grabbing a towel. “Um, I’ll go and see if Shmi’s got breakfast ready.”

“You have such beautiful hair.”  
“Thank you.”  
Shmi was braiding Padmé’s hair as Qui-Gon came into the kitchen, realising with amusement that, unusually for him, he was the last one to get up.  
“But I think I might cut it off,’ Padmé went on, her legs dangling from the tall stool, “it’s getting too long.”  
“Oh no, that would be a terrible crime,” laughed Shmi, thinking of her own short cropped hair and the many years she had dreamt of having long hair.  
“Morning,” Qui-Gon said to Padmé and Shmi as he passed them, going over to sit next to Anakin, who was helping himself to fresh bread and some kind of pungent smelling white substance. “What’s that?”  
“It’s cheese,” said Anakin pleasantly, pushing some juice over to the Jedi, “made from Bantha milk.”  
“It pongs as much as those candles,” remarked Qui-Gon, gratefully taking a sip of juice. He was still not used to the dryness of the air.  
“It tastes much nicer than it smells,” called out Padmé, her hair taking shape under the quick fingers of Anakin’s mother.  
“Give it a try,” Anakin handed the Jedi a piece of the cheese on his knife.  
Trying not to wrinkle his nose, Qui-Gon accepted it and smeared the cheese onto a piece of bread. All eyes were on him as he took a taste. For a moment, he chewed it round. As he swallowed it, he nodded, “You’re right, it does taste nicer than it smells.” He tucked into more of the bread, “So where are you taking us today, Anakin?”  
“I still think we should try Mos Espa. It’s quieter than Mos Eisley - we’ll attract less attention.”  
“Sounds good,” agreed the Jedi Master.  
“Anakin knows it well,” smiled Shmi, fastening the handmaiden’s final braid. “We used to live there. There you go Padmé, now you’ll fit in with all the girls here.”  
“Thank you!” Padmé patted her hair experimentally. It was plaited around her ears in intricate loops, “Is this the latest fashion on Tatooine?”  
“It is,” laughed Shmi, putting the stool back under the table, “as fashionable as we get on Tatooine anyway.”  
“It looks good,” said Anakin admiringly, but he looked away as her dark eyes focused on him curiously. “We better go soon.”  
“Right,” Qui-Gon finished his last piece of bread, “Is it far?”  
“Not in the speeder,” said Anakin, heading out into the courtyard. “I’ll get her set-up,” he called behind him as he disappeared up the stairs. “Meet me up top!”  
“I’ll go and get the parts” said Padmé, accepting from Shmi a canister of water for their trip. “Thank you.”  
“Have faith in Anakin,” said Shmi quietly, “he’s good at finding things.”  
“The Force will guide us,” said Qui-Gon, grabbing his cloak, “Let’s go!”  
“Goodbye.” Shmi waved them off, watching as the Jedi and the young woman hurried away up the stairs. Sighing deeply, she started to collect the breakfast things together.

As they flew over the desert, Padmé was careful to have a good look around her, trying to spot some of the things Anakin had been telling her about. However, all she saw were endless stretches of sand dunes marching on and on over and towards the horizon without much variety except for the occasional rocky outcrop.  
Qui-Gon was more concerned with keeping himself in the speeder than looking at the landscape. Anakin was certainly a skilled pilot but also a reckless one. “You like driving fast don’t you Anakin,” he shouted over the whine of the engine. Like Padmé he was not that impressed with the desert but Mos Espa looked more promising. It appeared on the horizon, a cluttered and ramshackle sprawl of buildings built out of the same buff coloured rock of the homestead; domes seemed to be a common feature of the desert architecture.  
Although it was early, the streets were thronged with citizens, beasts of burden and transports of various kinds going about their business before the suns reached their midday intensity. Slowing down to match the speed of the traffic, Anakin negotiated the streets of the spaceport carefully, mindful of the crowds.  
“Your mother said you used to live here?”  
“Yeah, before she got sold to Cleeg,” said Anakin, looking about him, “It still looks exactly the same.”  
“I imagine things hardly…” Suddenly the Jedi Master was jolted forward as the speeder came to a dead stop.  
“Anakin, why have we stopped?” Padmé looked at him in confusion.  
Before Anakin could explain, another speeder came screeching round the corner, almost colliding with them. “That’s why,” he said, gesturing angrily at the other driver. “Hey! Watch where you’re going!”  
The speeder came to a screeching halt. Angrily the young man driving it stood up and looked over the viewscreen. He was not much older than Anakin but he looked it, his tunic slashed low to show the dark curls on his rippling chest. “What the blazes…?” His anger quickly turned to surprise when he saw who was driving the other speeder, “What are you doing back?”  
“Get out the way, Riker.”  
“How you gonna make me, Wermo?”  
“Just ignore him Anakin,” cautioned Qui-Gon, feeling the anger in the young man rising: it was obvious the two had a history of conflict.  
“Just get out the way!” called Anakin, unable to reverse as the traffic piled up behind him.  
“No, I was here first. Gonna tell your mommy about me?” The kids in the speeder with Riker giggled, seeing Anakin’s growing frustration. “I bet she’s not too pleased to have you back,” continued Riker, warming to his theme, “I heard that she was quite happy for the old man to sign you over so that she could marry him…”  
Vaulting out the speeder, Anakin ran over to his tormentor, determined to wipe the smile from his face.  
“No, Anakin, no,” shouted Qui-Gon, trying to grab Anakin’s tunic but he was not fast enough. The Jedi looked at Padmé in frustration, “Great, this is all we need.”  
Riker had also leapt out of his speeder, ready to engage him. Anakin managed to punch him first, hard in the face. Spitting blood, Riker waded in with a revenge attack; soon they were rolling around on the floor, fighting and beating the hell out of each other. It was not long until a crowd formed; mostly young people, they stood around them, yelling, supporting Riker in the main but a couple had a grudging respect for the bravery of Anakin to take him on. Suddenly, the crowd was pushed aside as Qui-Gon strode over. Towering over them, he grabbed Anakin’s tunic first and then Riker’s. Pulling them apart, he tossed each of them effortlessly aside so that they were crouched, bruised and bleeding, either side of him. “What’s this?”  
Licking away the blood that oozed from his split lip, Anakin looked up at the Jedi defiantly. “He insulted me!”  
Riker, sporting a black eye and cut to his head, opened his mouth to say something but stopped when he saw Qui-Gon’s expression of thunder. Instead he suddenly became very interested in the surface of the road.  
“Riker, I assume that is your name,” said Qui-Gon, keeping hold of his tunic. “I want you to apologise to Anakin here and then I want you to disappear very quickly. Got that?”  
“Yes sir.” Riker swallowed the nausea rising in his throat – he had no idea who this man was but he was afraid of him. “Sorry, Anakin.”  
“Very good.” Qui-Gon let go of the young man, who scrambled to his feet, jumped into his speeder, and quickly left the scene. The crowd, not having much more to look at, melted away, wondering whom the mysterious and authoritative stranger was.  
Helping Anakin up, Qui-Gon escorted him back to the speeder. “Whatever he said, fighting is not the answer.”  
Now that the heat in his head had died down, Anakin was embarrassed. “He’s always hated me. I don’t mind that but when he says things about my mother…” he stopped, feeling the tension rise within him again. “Well, I don’t like it.”  
“Anakin in your life you will meet a great many people who you will not agree with. Sometimes we just have to tolerate someone else’s opinion, even if we don’t like it.”  
They returned to the speeder, Anakin sulking and Qui-Gon concerned to forget the hiatus and to carry on with the reason for their visit.  
“Well done, Anakin.” Padmé was looking at him with irritation; her estimation of him had taken a huge nosedive.  
Feeling ashamed, with both Qui-Gon and Padmé’s disapproval burning into him, Anakin drove slowly the rest of the way, barely speaking. Qui-Gon however was thinking back to something unusual that had happened before the fight; Anakin had been aware that the speeder was going to fly round the corner. He had stopped before it had happened. If he had kept going they all would have been seriously hurt. There was no way that he could have known the speeder was coming; it had been a blind bend. Although it could have been an isolated event, the strength in the Force that resonated through the young man convinced him that Anakin was of great importance. Obviously the young man had problems managing his emotions but for Qui-Gon that was to be expected. He had been exposed to more struggle and hardship than most, it was not surprising it had affected him in some way.

“This is Colsan’s place,” said a subdued Anakin, climbing stiffly out of the speeder, the aches and pains from the fight beginning to affect him.  
“Who is Colsan?” asked Padmé, rolling her tongue around the odd sounding name.  
“He’s the owner, the guy Shmi was talking about last night,” Anakin explained, heading towards the unprepossessing entrance.  
“But this is a junk yard.” Padmé looked at him sceptically. “I thought you were taking us to a proper dealer. Do you really think we can find the part we need here?”  
“Yep,” nodded Anakin, rubbing his nose which still smarted from Riker’s blow. “Colsan can get his hands on anything, trust me.”  
“I’m trying too,” muttered Padmé as she followed the young man.  
The entrance to the junkshop was through an plain stone archway linked to a small, square shaped bunker of sorts. Around them scurried plainly dressed sentients and droids, carrying boxes, stacking parts. Everywhere there was junk piled high.  
“More slaves?” commented Padmé grouchily.  
“Freedom is a great gift,” observed Qui-Gon as they watched the slaves working, “which many of us take for granted.”  
Padmé screwed her face up against the suns as they shone directly into her eyes, “I think if this Colsan was a better man he would not have any slaves at all.”  
“Well he’s not that bad,” said Anakin defensively, “there are much worse masters a slave could have. Believe me, I know.”  
Remembering what Anakin had told her last night about his treatment at the hands of some slave masters, Padme knew it was wise to be quiet.  
Reaching what appeared to be the reception office, they found a young girl sitting on a very high stool, her legs dangling someway off the ground. Dressed in a grubby white tunic, her hair tidied away into two buns perched on top of her head, she was fiddling with some parts spread out precariously in her lap, looking at them in frustration.  
“You need some help with that?” asked Anakin kindly.  
“Please,” she lisped, showing him the bit she was stuck on, “I can’t do it.”  
Picking up one of the parts, Anakin showed her where to put the screwdriver to remove the damaged cell. She looked at him in gratitude, “You fixed it.”  
“No worries. Is your Grandad around?”  
For an answer, she climbed down from her seat and ran through a nearby archway, yelling in a piercing voice, “Grandaddy! Grandaddy!”  
“How did you know she was his granddaughter?” asked Padmé sceptically.  
“She’s too young to be his daughter,” said Anakin as though it was obvious. “It’s a bit of a mess in here so we’ll have to look through it ourselves, Colsan just piles it up.”  
“As long as we find something,” remarked Padmé briskly.  
“We stand a good chance,” smiled Anakin, relaxing finally, “I once found a missing part for a Correllian battlecruiser…”  
“Hey, if it isn’t Anakin Skywalker!”  
They looked round as a man of indeterminate age, his face deeply lined and tanned like most of the residents of the planet, wondered out of the archway, scratching his beard with a filthy and greasy hand.  
“I thought they sold you off to the CLONE?”  
“They did,” Anakin brightened, “but I was rescued.” He indicated Qui-Gon.  
Colsan smiled at the Jedi, “I’m pleased you came back, your poor mother was beside herself. Luckily Cleeg looked out for her and well… I guess you know what happened next?”  
“Yes,” said Anakin, “I’m very happy for her.”  
“So, what can I do for you?”  
“We’re after parts for a Nubian hyperdrive and shield generator if you have them,” said Qui-Gon, trying to make himself look and sound as ordinary as possible. But he still sounded forced compared to the easy, everyday dialect of Tatooine.  
“It’s not something I see everyday,” mused Colsan, wiping his grubby hand on his equally grubby trousers. “It’s as rare as seeing a Krayt dragon round here. But you’re welcome to take a look.”  
Whilst Qui-Gon showed the parts to Colsan, hoping to jog his memory, Anakin went through the archway into the huge yard to begin the search. Padmé followed him, amazed at how it was piled high with more detritus from ships, droids and bits of machinery than she had ever seen. There was scrap everywhere.  
“How can we even begin to find anything in here?” remarked Padmé to Anakin, who was also feeling overwhelmed by the scale of their task.  
“Anakin!”  
Hearing a shout, they spun round to see a group of youngsters climbing over the heaps, scavenging for parts. When he saw them, Anakin waved and they waved back. Two of them came down to meet him, a young man and woman, barely in their twenties. They seemed bemused to see Anakin but greeted him warmly.  
“Hey, when you did you get back?” The young woman was tall, her hair bleached far lighter than it should be by the suns, her skin much darker. Round-cheeked and outgoing, she immediately put people at ease.  
“I thought you were sold to the CLONE?” Darker haired than the girl, more lithe and more wary, the young man was also more obviously interested in Padmé.  
“I was.” Anakin decided to give them the abridged version, “I managed to escape, with some help of course.”  
“Escape?” The girl’s eyes opened wide, “So you’re like a fugitive or something?”  
“Sort of.” Anakin ignored Padmé’s obvious snigger.  
“What’re you up to?”  
“I’m helping a friend out,” he replied, gesturing towards Qui-Gon, who was still talking to Colsan. “What are you here for?”  
“We found this old speeder in the desert,” replied the girl, her wide smile showing gap-teeth, “it’s like got some parts missing but it seems fine apart from that. Cyana reckons the sand people abandoned it.”  
The young man coughed. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”  
“Oh, yeah, this is Padmé.” Not naturally jealous, his friend’s interest in the handmaiden had made Anakin feel strange inside.  
“Pleased to meet you,” said Padmé, kissing each of them on the cheek as was Naboo custom, much to the delight of the young man. “I think Anakin left his manners at home today, what’s your names?”  
“I’m Eopie,” said the young woman “and this is my brother Kitster.” She was trying very hard not to giggle, sensing the tension between Anakin and Kitster growing.  
Whilst Anakin fumed silently, Kitster smiled at Padmé. How on Tatooine did he find such a hot-looking girl? “You’re not from around here?”  
“No, she’s visiting my folks,” said Anakin quickly before Padmé could say anything, “she’s part of my er… extended family.”  
“How long you here for?”  
“Only a few days,” replied Padmé carelessly, deciding to go with Anakin’s explanation, “I’m just visiting and then I’m off again.”  
“That’s a shame,” sighed Eopie, hoping to make a new friend, “we don’t get many visitors round here.”  
“Yeah, come on, we could show you the sights,” persisted Kitster, “it wouldn’t take long!”  
Padmé seemed amenable but Anakin shook his head. “There’s not time to do that. We’re on a tight schedule.”  
“Obviously Anakin wants to keep you all to himself,” Kister said brazenly to the delighted handmaiden, causing Eopie to smack him. “What?”  
Not immune to the effect his attentions were having on Anakin, Padmé smiled playfully, “It’s such a shame.”  
“We better get on with what we came here to do,” said Eopie, regretfully as she, like her brother, had immediately warmed to Padmé. “Maybe if you’ve got time another day?”  
“I’d like that.”  
“I’d like it too,” replied Kitster, returning her smile.  
“Are you gonna be about, Anakin?”  
Distracted by the looks passing between Kitster and Padmé, Anakin belatedly realised Eopie was talking to him. “I guess.”  
“Great, let’s do something. Come on you!” she added, grabbing Kitster’s arm. “We’ve got to go.”  
“Bye Anakin, bye Padmé,” said Kitster as he was reluctantly dragged away, blowing kisses at the handmaiden, “I’ll miss you!”  
“Your friends are nice.” If Padmé was amused by the attention, she was even more amused to see that Anakin was sulking. “What’s the matter with you?”  
“Nothing,” said Anakin quickly. He was annoyed with himself. He felt he could never be brave enough to show his feelings for Padmé as obviously as Kitster had.  
“Nothing?” Mischievously, Padmé looked directly into his eyes. “I think you’re jealous.”  
“No, I’m not.” He looked away, blushing furiously.  
“I think you are.” And before he could protest further, she had leant forward and pressed a kiss to his crimson cheek. “I think it’s sweet.” Stunned by her forwardness, Anakin could only stare at her. “Let’s start looking for these parts, shall we?” she chided him, seeing that Qui-Gon was coming through the archway.  
As soon as he reached them, the Jedi sensed something was amiss. “Why are you two standing about?”  
“We were waiting for you,” said Anakin, not daring to look at Padmé.  
“Right.” Faced with their puzzling inaction, Qui-Gon took hold of an arm from each young person and pushed them towards the tottering pile of junk. “Let’s get going.”

Even though there were three of them, it took hours for them to search the junkyard, their fingers filthy and sore from opening up engines and shifting through useless material. And by late afternoon when they had still turned up nothing except a few rusty parts which might fit the shield generator, all three of them were growing increasingly disillusioned that they were going to find anything suitable. However, it had not been a waste of time, least of all for Anakin. He had stuck by Qui-Gon for most of the time they had been in the yard, taking about so many different things, sharing their experiences - although of course Qui-Gon’s experience was infinitely greater than his. Even so, Qui-Gon was amazed at the number of things the young man had crammed into his life so far. He found himself warming more and more to Anakin as the day progressed.  
Just as they were about to give up, Anakin decided to have one last look in a pile he had already visited. Previously it had been discarded because it appeared to be chiefly made up of broken and unrelated droid parts. However, his determination to search the entire yard finally paid off when he found what appeared to be a Nubian engine, hidden under a pile of droid legs. Giving a whoop of delight, he called to the others: “Hey, I’ve found something!”  
Qui-Gon and Padmé, hand in hand with her new friend, Colsan’s granddaughter Amee, who had come to help them, clambered over to him, eager to see if he had found the parts they needed.  
Pushing the droids out of the way revealed the extensive remains of an engine from a Naboo cruiser. Comparing the parts with those in the bag revealed it to be an earlier model than the ship belonging to the Queen but Padmé was convinced that it would be compatible. “On Naboo we like to recycle things as much as possible.”  
“Thank the Force,” said Qui-Gon happily, helping Anakin to open up the engine.  
“Yep, here’s the generator.” Anakin carefully pulled it out, clutching the precious part in his hands. “Looks fine to me.”  
“I think we should take the whole thing,” advised Padmé, “just in case.”  
“A good idea. Now all we have to do is pay for it.” Qui-Gon imagined that such parts didn’t come cheap.  
“It’ll be alright,” smiled Anakin, getting up. “I’ll go and speak to Colsan, see what he can do. Come on Amee, your Granddad will be wondering where you’ve got to.”  
“Bye bye Padmé,” said the little girl reluctantly, gripping Padmé’s hand.  
Crouching down, Padmé kissed Amee on her cheek, “It was lovely to meet you.”  
“I’ll miss you,” called Amee as she trotted after Anakin.  
“She seems a very sweet girl,” said Qui-Gon, as Anakin hoisted her onto his shoulders and carried her back into the building that formed the eastern wall of the junkyard.  
“But sad,” said Padmé, “her parents died, it’s just her and her grandfather.”  
“I barely remember my family,” said Qui-Gon, “I don’t have any memory of them at all except my mother. But even that is vague now.”  
Padmé looked at him in sympathy, feeling how fortunate she was to actually have a family and a complete one at that.  
It was not long until Anakin returned with Colsan, both men talking in earnest. “So you found what you wanted?” asked Colsan amiably.  
“We did,” replied Qui-Gon, “now comes the dirty bit.”  
“Ah yes.” Colsan grinned. “You want to take the whole engine?”  
“If we can.”  
“What currency do you have Mr Jinn?” asked Colsan; although he seemed casual and unconcerned, underneath shaggy eyebrows his eyes were sharp.  
“I only have Republic credits,” began Qui-Gon, aware that they were not actually in the Republic.  
“I wouldn’t strictly take them,” replied Colsan, “but it’ll have to do.”  
“Are you sure?”  
“I’ll just have to be careful where I spend ‘em,” he smiled. “Let me see. Since you saved my friend Anakin here from a life of slavery, I’ll let you have that for cheaper than I would normally. But this is a one-off special, I won’t make a habit of it.”  
“Thank you very much, you are very kind.”  
“He says that to everyone,” whispered Anakin to Padmé.  
“Well, I can’t condemn you to staying on this rock,” grinned the scrap dealer as they walked towards his office to confirm the deal. He wasn’t sure why but he felt there was something trustworthy about the stranger. “Been trying to get out of here ever since I was old enough. I thought that by buying parts I’d be able to make myself a ship.” He looked at Anakin ruefully, “Sixty-five years and I’m still here.”  
“One day you’ll make it,” replied Anakin, “thanks Colsan, I owe you one.”  
“Hey, you brought me some customers, I owe you one.” Clapping the younger man on the shoulders, he suggested to Anakin that if he was in need of a job there would be one for him, “and it’ll be a paid job.”  
As they emerged from the junkyard, Padmé was aware of how late it was getting; the sky was stained a deep red towards the horizon as the suns disappeared. “It’ll be too late to go back to the ship now, won’t it?”  
“Yes,” said Anakin apologetically. “It’ll be too dangerous with the sand people.”  
“I didn’t forget.”  
“And we have to go back to get more fuel…”  
“Okay, okay, bad idea,” interrupted Padmé, cuffing him lightly on the arm.  
Closing the compartment into which the precious parts were stowed, he looked at Qui-Gon for confirmation. “You can stay another night can’t you?”  
“It seems the only thing we can do,” agreed the Jedi Master.

Obi-wan had been feeling unsettled all day unable to shake the sense that they were being watched. It was a very abstract sense and it came from outside the ship but he knew that something was wrong. Going over to the Captain, who was conferring quietly with Queen Amidala, Obi-wan looked embarrassed at having to interrupt. “I do beg your pardon, your Majesty, but I was wondering if I might have a word with Captain Panaka?”  
“Whatever you wish to tell Captain Panaka you can tell us also,” said the Queen firmly, remaining where she was.  
“Very well, your Majesty,” said Obi-wan coolly. “I was going to suggest that Captain Panaka remains here in charge of your protection whilst I investigate the immediate area.”  
“Whatever for?” asked the Captain suspiciously, “Olie would tell us if something was registering on the monitors.”  
“I am sure that he would,” said Obi-wan hurriedly, “but for my own peace of mind I would like to survey the area before night falls.”  
“What do you think might be out there, Master Jedi?” asked Rabé with interest.  
“I do not know,” replied Obi-wan, “but I cannot shake the feeling that we are being watched.”  
“Then we agree that you must survey the area,” said the Queen, aware that the Jedi had powers of perception that mere mortals could not attempt to understand. “We will be safe here with the Captain.”  
“Thank you your Majesty, I will not be long.” Picking up his lightsaber from the bench, Obi-wan bowed. Leaving the Queen, he made his way to the entrance of the cruiser and waited as the ramp lowered with its monotonous humming to the sandy floor of the desert below. Dusk was casting its eerie half-light as the suns had all but disappeared behind the rocky outcrops far away in the distance and Obi-wan advanced cautiously down the ramp. As soon as he stepped from it, the ramp steadily ascended and closed back into place with a colossal thud, which was magnified in the immense silence all around.  
Obi-wan was not sure what he was looking for but the feeling was overwhelming him now… there was something not quite right. It was more than a mere disturbance in the Force it was something more akin to a blurring, a darkening of vision that sought to veil his communication with its energy. Keeping a close hand on his lightsaber, Obi-wan closed his eyes, stretching out with his feelings trying to grasp what was causing the uncertainty.  
There was certainly something, he could feel it approaching… but it was not an organic life-form.  
His eyes snapped open. And then he saw it – in the distance, barely a speck larger than a grain of sand heading towards him. Wrapping himself in the Force, Obi-wan sought to blanket his presence as he ran towards the advancing machine – at the last minute it spotted him, loosening deadly bolts of red laser that flew towards him. Bringing his lightsaber high, Obi-wan deflected them back towards the droid but it was too quick for even a Jedi’s reflexes and swerved deftly to avoid them.  
“Blast it!”  
The droid came around for another pass, heading towards him with unnerving precision. Jumping out of the way to avoid more deadly rays, Obi-wan rolled to absorb the impact of his fall at the same time sending his lightsaber in a deadly spinning arc to catch the droid unawares. It caught the edge of it, sparks flying as the sword damaged the casing but it was not enough to destroy the droid. Reaching up to catch his lightsaber Obi-wan did not reckon on the droid being so fast and before he knew what was happening he was lying sprawled on the sand, a numbing pain spreading through his arm where a stray laser bolt had caught him. Jumping up, he prepared himself for the inevitable attack but as fast as it had appeared, the droid sped away back towards the horizon.  
Disgruntled and concerned, Obi-wan headed back towards the ship, rubbing his arm where the pain still throbbed. He had not seen a droid like it before; although it had been aggressive, its bolts were set to stun rather than destroy. Whoever had sent it clearly wanted their quarry alive. It could only mean that one terrible truth had been realised. The CLONE had found them.

That same evening, Padmé was sat in the main living space of the homestead playing with some beads that Shmi had given her. Made of polished stones, she liked the way they felt smooth and cool between her fingers. The only light came from candles made from bantha fat that burnt beside her on the table, sending their pungent aroma into the room. Outside the darkness was gathering in, the silence at times pierced by the cries of some unknown creature and she could not help but shiver; the cries sounded so woeful.  
Carrying two drinks, Anakin approached the table, appreciating how the candle’s flickering light softly highlighted Padme’s pale, luminous skin. He thought it was so much more beautiful than the tanned and sun burned skin of most Tatooine girls. As he sat down, he pushed a drink over towards her.  
“Thank you Anakin,” smiled Padmé, but she was feeling tired. “It’s nice to have someone to wait on me for a change.”  
“I know you say you’re not a slave but it must be hard work looking after a Queen,” he said, realising that he was staring at her too much and looked at his hands instead. “Do you ever get to do much else?”  
“No not really,” said Padmé, still playing with the beads, “it pretty much takes up all of my time.”  
Anakin wondered where the difference was, “Sounds like slavery to me.”  
“No it’s different,” insisted Padmé, “we don’t belong to the Queen for a start, she doesn’t own us like the CLONE or the Hutts owned you. We serve our terms then we are free to return to our families.”  
“Your family?”  
Padmé smiled. “I have a mother and a father and a sister, Sola.”  
He had no experience of having a sibling, “What’s it like having a sister?”  
“It’s like having a best friend who knows you better than anyone.” Putting down the beads, she leaned her chin against her hand, “Okay we fight some of the time, well a lot of the time, and she can be annoying because she’s older than me and thinks she knows better. But I miss her when I’m away from her. I mean, it might be nice for you to have a brother now,” she suggested brightly, “wasn’t it lonely just you and Shmi?”  
“No, not really,” he replied assertively, wondering if the morose and laconic Owen would ever accept him as a brother. “It always seemed enough.”  
“What about your father?” asked Padmé. “What happened to him?”  
Anakin’s usually expressive face suddenly closed up. “I don’t have a father ”  
“But you must have a father,” said Padmé, looking at him in surprise. “It’s basic biology.”  
“Well, I mean I don’t know anything about him,” said Anakin defensively. “Shmi always told me that I was a gift to her from the Force.”  
“I don’t understand.”  
“Neither do I really.” Her lovely dark eyes were beginning to affect him in a number of ways and he looked at her plaintively. “I never told her this but I did want a father. I wanted to be the same as everyone else. I used to dream about him, that he would be big and strong, a great warrior, who would come and rescue us from slavery.”  
There was silence for a moment. Padmé’s eyes met Anakin’s over the table and she could feel the pain emanating from them. There was nothing she could say, the agony he must have experienced was so alien to her own experiences that she knew any words of comfort would be superfluous. The only comparison she could make was how she felt about the invasion of Naboo, the danger her family, her people were in: and she knew that no words from anyone could take away her fear.  
It was so quiet the low voices of Qui-Gon and Shmi could be heard in the background, and the incessant murmur of the moisture vaporators slipped in from outside, carried on the stillness of the night air.  
It was Anakin who first broke the silence. “You’re the first girl who has ever spoken to me like this.”  
Padmé could not help laughing despite herself, “Then you haven’t met many girls!”  
“You’re right!” Anakin laughed too, glad to dispel the tension. “Well, we don’t get many social opportunities as a slave.”  
“Well you’ll have to change that now you’re free.” It was said lightly but even as the words left her mouth, Padmé felt a sudden desire to apologise for her teasing; she didn’t want him to think she was being purposively cruel. Neither did she want to give him false hopes, after all they would be saying goodbye tomorrow. “I’m sorry about what happened… today, in the yard I mean. I went too far.”  
“I don’t think you did,” said Anakin honestly, “you can tease me any time you like.”  
She laughed at his honesty but then sighed and pushed her cup away, sadness momentarily clouding her features.  
“What is it?”  
She looked downcast. “I fear for Naboo. How can we hope to defeat the powers arranged against us?”  
“I wish we could do more to help.”  
“Believe me, you have helped,” she said vehemently. “If the Queen can get to Coruscant we stand a better chance of making our case to the Republic’s leaders. And we need an engine for that.” As she spoke she did not realise that she had been staring into his eyes: the more she regarded them, the more they captivated her; they were so intense in their colour, reminding her of the deep, opaque waters of the lakes she had peered into as a child, hoping to find some secret hidden in their depths.  
“Qui-Gon won’t allow the CLONE to take control of Naboo,” said Anakin softly, aware that her attention had shifted.  
“He’ll try his best but sometimes sacrifices must be made for peace,” she sighed, unable to shake her feelings of despair. “Anyway, is there something we can do to take my mind off Naboo?”  
“I’ll go and take a look,” agreed Anakin, in some respects glad to get away from the handmaiden for a moment. Her alternate teasing and obvious interest in him perplexed him: the way she had been staring at him both pleased and unnerved him. He felt that they had a connection, a connection which he had never experienced with another before. What could it mean?

Seeing that someone was trying to reach his communicator, Qui-Gon realised belatedly that he hadn’t contacted Obi-wan all day. The poor man must be worried. He hurried out to the garage (away from inquisitive ears) in order to make contact.  
“I’ve been trying to get hold of you for the past hour,” grumbled Obi-wan as soon as Qui-Gon reached him.  
“Forgive me Obi-wan. We took longer than we thought getting the parts and now it’s too late to return to the ship because of the sand people. What has been happening?”  
“The CLONE have found our position.”  
“They have?” said Qui-Gon steadily, feeling the familiar sinking sensation in his belly. “How?”  
“I encountered some kind of droid outside the ship. It attacked me.”  
“You destroyed it?”  
“No, it stunned me and flew away. I’ve not seen anything like it before.”  
“Is the Queen safe?”  
“Yes for the moment.” The communicator hissed with static. “So you will be back tomorrow?”  
“Yes, with the necessary parts,” replied Qui-Gon, “we got a good bargain.”  
“Excellent. Did you find someone who can fix it?”  
“Anakin and Padmé think they can manage it.”  
“Really?” Qui-Gon could hear the smile appear on Obi-wan’s lips, “That’s convenient.”  
“Quite,” agreed Qui-Gon, “almost a gift from the Force. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Deep in thought, Qui-Gon returned to the hub of the homestead. The kitchen was warm and inviting after the cold, damp atmosphere of the garage and a whirr of activity. Anakin and Padmé were noisily playing a game of Smuggler’s Chance with some tattered playing cards and ancient coins whilst Shmi and Cleeg were busy preparing some drinks and snacks for the youngsters.  
“Can I help?” asked Qui-Gon, seeing that Shmi was trying to do several things at once.  
Shmi readily handed him a knife, “Perhaps you can start by cutting some cheese?”  
“You know how much I love the smell,” he replied, seeing that Shmi had the same sense of humour as her son. “Give it here.”  
Over at the table, Padmé had set Anakin the challenge of beating her. “I win!” she crowed, her face radiant with the warmth and laughter as she trounced Anakin for a second time. As she leaned over to grab the coins, at the same time Anakin made to give them to her. For a brief moment their fingers met; for both the feeling was instant, as though a spark had passed between them. They both pulled away, laughing.  
“Fancy being beaten again?” asked Padmé sweetly, her cheeks still flushed.  
“I don’t think so, I feel lucky this time.” Anakin did not know what was wrong with him: usually he was very good at the game but something (or someone) was affecting his concentration.  
“Ha, we shall see.” Espying Qui-Gon she called out to him. “Come and have a game with us.”  
Pleased to have some respite from the overpowering smell of the cheese, Qui-Gon obtained permission from Shmi to join in with the youngsters.  
“See if you can beat me!” added the handmaiden as Qui-Gon pulled up a seat.  
He looked at the tattered cards with an air of puzzlement. “I have never seen this game before.”  
“It’s usually played in dank bars and back alleyways by scoundrels,” said Anakin cheerily.  
“You’ll soon get the hang of it,” said Padmé, dealing out the cards around the table. “I only learnt how to play it tonight.”  
“I wonder what the Queen will think when you teach her to play,” said Anakin, picking up his cards.  
“Here you go.” Cleeg balanced a tray of drinks and snacks on the edge of the table. He was still bemused to see Anakin, as well as a Jedi from Coruscant and young lady from Naboo all sitting in his plain and simple dwelling. “You all wanted one right?”  
“Yes please,” said Padmé, looking with interest at the contents of the mugs. It was a deep reddish liquid, the colour of Ferrillian amber stones, and had a strong, sweet smell which went some way to diminishing the smell of the cheese.  
Anakin helped to hand round the steaming cups. “Be careful, it’s hot.”  
Taking a sniff, Padmé asked, “What is it?”  
“It’s brewed from the dried leaves of the mynar tree,” explained Cleeg, knowing that would not mean much to her, “they have a sweet flavour.”  
She tried an experimental sip. “You’re right,” she said to Anakin, “it’s hot!”  
“Be careful, you’ll burn your tongue sweetheart,” said Cleeg belatedly.  
“I think I already have.” Padmé put the cup down. “It’s nice though.”  
“Glad you like it,” said Cleeg, “it’s quite hard to get the leaves but since you’re a special guest I thought I’d treat you. It’s not often we have a Jedi and a Queen in the house.”  
“Oh no, I’m not a queen,” said Padmé quickly, “I’m her representative.”  
“Oh,” said Cleeg, looking slightly disappointed, “I must have misheard Shmi then. I was wondering why you was dressed so plain.”  
“I am one of her handmaidens, we thought it best the Queen remained on the ship,” explained Padmé. “Captain Panaka was afraid the Hutts might kidnap her.”  
“I wouldn’t put it past them,” agreed Cleeg, “your Captain is a sensible man. Well if you’ll excuse me.”  
“It’s a shame you can’t come with us to Coruscant,” remarked Padmé idly to Anakin as Cleeg returned to the preparation area.  
“I would like to,” admitted Anakin; he had often dreamed of visiting the capital of the Republic. “Have you been there before?”  
“Only once. We spent a day at the Senate as part of our public service training.”  
“What’s it like? I heard that the city fills the entire planet!”  
Padmé considered for a moment; “It’s certainly bigger than Mos Espa and probably all the settlements on Tatooine put together.”  
“That’s obvious,” frowned Anakin, seeing that she was not taking his question seriously.  
“It’s very hard to explain what Coruscant is like to someone who has nothing to compare it with,” said Qui-Gon, looking ruefully at the thin deck he now held. “It would be better if you could see it for yourself.”  
Anakin was happier now that he had a very good hand. “I always hoped one day to see it with my own eyes.”  
“Rather than with your nose?” laughed Padmé, “mind you, it is a very polluted place.”  
“Yes there is very little, if any, of the natural habitat left on Coruscant, it has been completely colonised by its inhabitants over thousands of years,” went on Qui-Gon, swapping one of his cards for another. “There are legends that once it was very beautiful.”  
“Anyway I don’t know why I am even thinking about leaving,” said Anakin, putting his cup back down having hardly touching his tea. “I only just got back here.” He had to figure out what he was going to do with his life now that his mother was settled and no longer needed his help.  
“It’s not like you to be so negative,” admonished Padmé, seeing her chance to beat both their cards.  
She was back to teasing him, this he could cope with; “And you know everything do you?”  
“I bet I know more than you,” she replied, trying very hard not to laugh. “I don’t see many schools on Tatooine.”  
“Our education is… more practical,” argued Anakin, seeing that she had a good hand and wondering how he might trump it. “We don’t go around with our noses stuck in books like you in Naboo.”  
“Please you two, it’s late and we have a long day tomorrow,” sighed Qui-Gon, getting tired of the to-ing and fro-ing. “Padmé is right, Anakin, you never know what might happen and as for future opportunities for travelling to Coruscant, we have a large ship with us and we could easily fit one more person on it.”  
Padmé looked at the Jedi in surprise – what was he up to?  
“I’m not going anywhere,” repeated Anakin as he dealt out new sets of cards for the three of them.  
“Why, have you already made plans?” asked Padmé, curious.  
Anakin shrugged, disappointed that his new hand was terrible. “Not really.”  
It was now or never for Qui-Gon. “Nobody owns you now, Anakin. You are free to follow your own path in life. But I have something to ask you which you may wish to consider.”  
“I should go.” Padmé started to get up, but Qui-Gon put his hand on her arm.  
“It’s alright Padmé, please stay. After all, it affects you too.”  
Burning with desire to know what the Jedi meant, Anakin put down his cards.“What is it?”  
“Anakin, I feel that you are strong in the Force. Very strong; in fact I have never met someone who has a connection to the Force like you do. If trained correctly, I think you have the potential to become a great and powerful Jedi.”  
There was a long silence as Anakin absorbed the Jedi’s words. It seemed to take a while before it registered in his consciousness. “Surely not,” he said humbly, “you and Obi-wan have wisdom and skill beyond anything I could hope to have.”  
“But that wisdom and skill was taught, Anakin,” said Qui-Gon, “and could be yours too, if you are trained properly.”  
“You think I could be a Jedi?” He felt dizzy, sick and happy all at once.  
“That is why I am asking you to come to Coruscant with us,” explained Qui-Gon, noticing that Padmé was looking as shocked as Anakin. “I want the Jedi Council to see you. They need to agree with me that you have the potential.”  
“Really?” Once Anakin was over the initial shock his mind crowded with possibilities. “You really think I could be trained to be a Jedi?”  
“Yes, if you pass the initial tests.”  
“Tests?” This was news to Padmé.  
“All prospective Jedi must pass a series of tests to ensure that they have the right temperament and potential,” he explained. “If you pass the tests, the Council will assign you to a Jedi Master, who will be your mentor and teacher.” Before Anakin could ask another question, Qui-Gon raised his hand. “Patience Anakin, there will be time for questions later, I cannot answer them all now. But in short if you decide to come with us, and if the Council agrees to your training, I will propose to them that I train you myself.”  
His eyes almost popping from their sockets with excitement, Anakin could barely restrain his amazement and gratitude. “Really? You… you would train me?”  
“Anakin, you deserve this chance, believe me. But I must also be honest with you. Training to be a Jedi is not something to be taken lightly. You must have the deepest commitment and devote the rest of your life to the Order. That means giving up a great many things.”  
Realising the gravity of the Jedi’s words, he asked, “What kind of things would I have to give up?”  
“It is difficult for a Jedi to have relationships with those outside of the Order. You would have to sever all links with your family.”  
“Would I never see them again?”  
“Possibly not, it takes a long time to train to be a Jedi. Although, in your case you are much older than the usual age of entrance so your training will have to be different.” As the Jedi Master suspected, Anakin was feeling torn between his need for excitement and adventure and the need to stay and be with his new family. “A Jedi’s life is not for everyone. You will expected to be a peace-maker and a warrior, trained in the art of fighting with a lightsaber. With the present turmoil in the Galaxy, we will be increasingly called upon to assist with the protection of the Republic - all Jedi must be ready to take up this challenge.”  
“But you would be there to guide me?”  
“Yes, Anakin, I would. Now I appreciate this is a lot to take in. Perhaps you should go and speak to your mother? She can help you make your decision.”  
It was uncanny, Anakin had just been thinking the same thing. “I’ll do that now.”  
“Don’t worry about making a decision tonight, you can tell me in the morning.”  
“Thank you.” Confused, Anakin left the table and disappeared in search of his mother.  
Padmé, who had been sat deep in thought, asked, “Do you really think Anakin shows that much promise?”  
“Yes he does,” replied Qui-Gon, picking up his cards. “I have met many Jedi throughout my long life, Padme, yet I have only encountered a few who are as strong in the Force as Anakin. He does not know it yet but I sense that great things will happen to him. I cannot expect Anakin to see it himself, although he dreams such things he is too modest to admit it. But his mother sees it, as do I.”  
Padmé, who was trying to imagine the skinny, awkward young man as a noble warrior like Qui-Gon, smiled. “I hope he finds it in himself to make the right decision.”  
“So do I, Padmé, so do I.”

Anakin found his mother in the garage, tidying away the mess of parts and tools that was spread across every available service. He knew she always tidied when she was concerned about something. “Mum?”  
“Oh, Anakin, you startled me.” She had evidently been deep in thought. Putting down a collection of spanners, she sat down on the bench. “What is it?”  
Anakin sat down, feeling an unexpected conflict in his mind. He had been dreaming about leaving Tatooine all his life but now it was actually possible, for the right reasons… all he felt was turmoil in his mind. “Master Jinn told me that I am strong in the Force,” he said hesitantly. “He wants to train me to be a Jedi.”  
Shmi smiled and clapped her hands together delightedly, “And your dilemma is?”  
“I don’t know if I can leave,” he sighed, looking down at the dusty concrete floor. “I’ve spent all of my life hoping we could get away from Tatooine. And now an opportunity comes… but it means I might never see you again.”  
“Is that what you’re worried about? Silly thing,” she scolded gently. “You should be thinking about the wonderful future that has opened up for you.” Her own eyes were shining, so proud that her son could be chosen for something so important. “Qui-Gon is a great man and he does not offer this opportunity to you lightly.”  
“I know,” he said softly.  
Taking his hands, she squeezed them tenderly. “This is because of me, isn’t it? I know you have always dreamed of setting me free and helping me, us, to live a better life. But I already have that now, Cleeg has given that to me.” She noticed that he bristled slightly at his step-father’s name. “I have had my opportunity of a better life. Now Qui-Gon comes to give you your opportunity. Will you take it?”  
“I want to. But...”  
“But? You are truly free now, free to live how you wish, go where you want!”  
“Do you want me to leave that much?” Anakin was confused; she had not seen him for years but she seemed happy just to let him go!  
“No, I see this opportunity for what it is. It will not come again,” Shmi looked at him critically. “I know you’re worth more, a lot more, than what Tatooine can offer you! Do you really want to stay here, to be a moisture farmer like your brother?”  
“No…”  
“Then what else might stop you? Do you feel you have to accept because Qui-Gon helped free you from the CLONE? I know that is not his intention.”  
“No it’s not that…its… How can I leave you? I’ve got to look after you, I promised.”  
“Anakin, you made that promise many years ago when we were in a lot of danger. Things are different now.”  
“You told me never to break a promise.”  
“But I’m letting you break it,” persisted Shmi. “I’ll be honest. You would upset me more by not taking this chance. Your whole life you have had to do what others have told you. This is your chance to change that. But you must make the right decision for you, not anyone else.”  
That was why it was so hard for Anakin. It was the first real choice he had to make.  
“And I know you would not be happy here, stuck on Tatooine. You’ll come to regret it, looking after your old mother…”  
“It’s not like that,” he said quickly.  
“You say that now.” She smiled at him sadly, “I know you want more than this life. You came into my life and you have lived within its shadow for long enough. Now you can leave the life I forced upon you behind. You have your own path to follow, your own dreams to fulfil. I’ve had my time and now this is your time.”  
Anakin was silent for a long time, thinking about her words. All his life he had wanted to be more than a slave; he wanted to be free to explore the galaxy, to use his talents in ways that would benefit others. He knew he had it in him and here it would be wasted, slipping away gradually like the wind eroded rocks of the Jungland Wastes, bit by bit until only lifeless, insipid memories were left. But even in his most glorious dreams and fantastic imaginings he’d always imagined that his mother would be there with him; that he could give her the kind of life she deserved.  
“So you don’t mind if I want to go with Qui-Gon?” he asked eventually.  
Shmi laughed and kissed her son happily. “No! I’d be a very bad mother if I did mind. This is a once in a lifetime chance, Anakin. You must take it!” But the tears formed in her grey eyes before she could stop them. “Of course I will miss you. You have been such a big part of my life, it will be strange not to have you close to me. But it is time you started your own journey.”  
He embraced her closely, “I know.”

They returned to the living space. The candles were guttering; burnt so low they barely gave out light anymore. Padmé was sat alone at the table, tidying the cards into a pile. She looked up as Anakin and Shmi entered. “Everyone has gone to bed.”  
“And so should you, Padmé,” Shmi fussed around, collecting cups and plates together. The handmaiden made to help her but she waved her away, “No, I will do this. You get to bed.”  
“If you’re sure…?”  
“Yes, quite sure.” Shmi kissed her gently on the cheek. “Sleep well, my dear.”

By the time Anakin came into the garage, Padmé was sitting on the edge of the bed dressed in an old nightgown and baggy pants, picking intently at a blister on her toe. Hearing him enter she looked up, “Hey.”  
“I thought you’d already be asleep.” He scratched at the bacta patch on the back of his neck where it was beginning to peel off. Somehow he knew that she had been waiting for him.  
“Have you decided yet if you’re coming with us?”  
“Almost,” said Anakin truthfully.  
“If it’s any help we can talk about it?”  
“It’s okay.” He realised that even if he was leaving his family he would not be without friends. “I think I need to sleep on it.” As much as he wanted to talk, he didn’t know what he could say that he hadn’t already said to his mother.  
“Don’t stay up too long then.” Content that she had made her feelings known, Padmé dived under the covers, “I hope you sleep well.”  
“You too.” Anakin picked up his towel. When he returned from his wash, she was already asleep, her coils of hair dark against the pillow’s white contrast.

“Morning Padmé,” said Shmi kindly, as the young handmaiden came into the kitchen the next morning. She was dividing coarse cereal evenly between three bowls, “did you sleep well?”  
“No, not really,” Padmé said anxiously, hovering in the middle of the room.  
“Why, what’s wrong dear?” Shmi busied herself, placing the cereal along with a variety of foodstuffs onto a tray and taking it over to the table.  
“I kept thinking about the Queen, about the danger we’re in.”  
Shmi came over to her. “From what you have told me about your Queen, she has the strength to withstand the CLONE.”  
“But we all have our limits.” Padmé trembled. “I fear how far the CLONE are prepared to go to get her to sign their treaty.”  
“There, there,” said Shmi softly, putting an arm around her. “It is natural to be afraid of the unknown. But communities are strong and I’m sure your people will find their strength in this time of crisis.”  
Soothed by her words, Padmé managed to pull herself together. “It is lucky we found Anakin,” she said, taking a seat at the table, “I’m sure it would have taken us a lot longer if we had to find someone to fix the ship.”  
“I am not sure that it was luck,” said Shmi thoughtfully, bringing over the cereal and a pitcher of milk. “I think it was meant to be.”  
“You mean it was the Force?” She had little understanding of it herself.  
“I believe so,” Shmi took a seat beside her, “Anakin was meant to help you.”  
Qui-Gon strolled in to find Padmé sat at the table, spooning cereal and chatting to Shmi.  
“Good morning ladies.” He looked first at Shmi, then at Padmé. “Is Anakin up yet?”  
“He was out of bed before me,” said Padmé helpfully. “I’ll go and find him, if you like?”  
The two adults watched as the young woman headed out into the sunshine.  
“She seems to be getting fond of Anakin,” remarked Qui-Gon, taking a seat as Shmi bought over his cereal. “I hope she will be a good influence on him.”  
“Yes, I think she will be,” mused Shmi, leaning against the counter, “she has a tremendous sense of duty for one so young.”

“So you’re going to Coruscant?”  
Owen leaned against the bench, cleaning a hydrospanner and watching Anakin as he collected together the parts they needed to fix the Queen’s cruiser. There was nothing immediately striking about Owen; he was solid, grounded and effortlessly practical, a Tatooine farmer just like his father.  
“Yes. It seems too great an opportunity to miss.” Going over to the speeder, Anakin started to stow the cleaned and repaired parts in the storage compartment.  
“It’s a long way to go. What if the Jedi don’t accept you?”  
“Then I’ll come back here,” said Anakin practically, shutting the compartment door.  
“Good. You know we can always use you here and you don’t have to pass a load of tests,” said Owen sensibly. “You know how hard it is to find good mechanics around here.”  
It was a fair consideration but Anakin knew he had made up his mind. “I know. But I have to at least try.”  
“I don’t see how anything that happens on Naboo is our concern,” continued Owen, determined to have his say about the situation, “we’ve got enough trouble already from the sand people and the Hutts to be dealing with.”  
“From what they say about the CLONE, it’ll be our problem soon.”  
Owen shrugged, “It might be good, might shake the Hutts up a bit…”  
“Oh here you are!” said Padmé brightly as she came into the garage, bringing the sunshine in with her. “Shmi’s got breakfast ready… Oh hello, Owen,” she added when she caught the older boy staring at her.  
“Hello Padmé. Anakin tells me you’re taking him to Coruscant.”  
“If he wants to come. Well, it was more Qui-Gon’s idea, we only need him to fix our engine.”  
“It’s nice to feel wanted,” laughed Anakin, well acquainted with the handmaiden’s humour.  
“Anyway, I better get back to work. Loaders won’t get fixed by themselves.” Awkwardly he embraced his brother and patted him on the back. “Take care, kid. Remember, if you ever get bored of living the high life you know you can come back here.” Turning to Padmé he said, “I hope your Queen gets what she wants from the Senate.”  
“Thank you.”  
As Owen left, Padmé turned back to Anakin, “So, you’re coming with us?”  
“Yes, I think so.”  
“From what Owen said I thought you’d made up your mind?”  
“I have,” he said, “well I think I have, but then something else tells me to stay.”  
“Sometimes if my head doesn’t make much sense,” Padmé came further into the garage and rested against the bench, “I have to go with my instincts.”  
“My instinct is telling me to go,” replied Anakin, “but I can’t help but think, what happens if the Jedi Council don’t think I’m good enough? Can I really come back to this life after that?” It would be more than humiliating, it would see all his dreams crushed. “I don’t know if I can take the risk.”  
“But Qui-Gon says…”  
“Qui-Gon has very high expectations for me,” counteracted Anakin, wiping his dirty hands with a nearby rag. “You heard him last night - what if I don’t live up to them?”  
“You’re right to be anxious,” said Padmé softly, coming closer to the young man and looking directly into his eyes. “It’s a huge change you’re making. But I know that Qui-Gon only expects you to do your best - he will be guiding you every step of the way. How can you fail with him as your mentor?”  
Her words made sense and he was forced to fall back on his default reason for not going. “I can’t help thinking I need to stay and look after my mother.” After all that she had done for him, he felt like he was abandoning her. “What if she needs me?”  
“With respect I think Shmi is old enough to look after herself.”  
“That’s not exactly what I meant.”  
“I know,” continued Padmé, her big brown eyes still fixed on his. “But what I meant is that she’s got plenty of people around her. From what I can see, they won’t let anything happen to her.”  
“But what if I turn out to be a failure? How will I face her?”  
“I had the same concerns when I was asked to serve the Queen,” said Padmé, reaching out tentatively to touch his arm as a comforting gesture. “I didn’t have to go away as far as you do but I had to leave my family and I was so worried that I would let them down. But then part of me knew that if I went thinking negatively then I would be a failure - I had to think positively and know that as long as I tried my best then I would not let anyone down, least of all myself.”  
“I just don’t want to make the wrong decision.”  
“Then think positively,” urged the handmaiden, “There is not always a right or wrong decision, sometimes there is only an expedient one.”

In the kitchen, Shmi was beginning to worry. “It’s almost time for you to go,” she said to Qui-Gon who had finished his breakfast, “I’ll just go and see where they’ve got to.”  
“Here they come,” said Qui-Gon, seeing the two youngsters heading across the yard, Padmé holding onto Anakin’s arm as though she were concerned he would run away.  
“Anakin has something he wishes to say,” announced the handmaiden as they entered the kitchen, pushing Anakin in front of her.  
“I’ve decided to come to Coruscant,” he said assertively.  
“That’s wonderful,” cried Shmi, hugging him and sprinkling his face with fond kisses. Embarrassed at his mother’s reaction, Anakin pulled away, but only a little. “I am so proud of you.”  
“Wait, I haven’t done anything yet,” said Anakin sensibly fearing his mother was getting carried away. “You can be proud of me when I come back in Jedi robes.”  
“Well Anakin, are you happy with your decision?”  
“I am.”  
“Good, because we have to go.” Qui-Gon looked at Shmi, her face full of pride, but mingled with sadness. “I’m sorry Shmi, you put a lot of effort into this.”  
“It’s all I do every morning,” she said gently, understanding his meaning, “and they gulp it down without as much as a thank you.”  
Shmi went to round up Cleeg and Owen, who had been inspecting the moisture vaporators to the east of the homestead, whilst Anakin collected together his meagre possessions and readied the land-speeder. It was not long before he met with Padmé and Qui-Gon outside the entrance to the homestead, just as Shmi returned with Cleeg and Owen. Cleeg was coming with them, saving Anakin the need to bring back the speeder, so the main purpose was to say farewell to his mother and his step-brother.  
“Take this, Anakin,” said Owen, handing him a battered blaster. “You might need it where you’re going.”  
“Thank you,” said his brother, sticking it in his belt for safekeeping.  
“It was nice to have met you Padmé,” continued Owen, a sentiment echoed by them all.  
It was more difficult than Anakin expected to leave the homestead behind. Turning to his mother he tried to disregard the uncertainty that was pooling within his heart. “Make sure you let Cleeg take care of you.”  
“I will, don’t you worry about me.” Yet Shmi saw the hesitation in his eyes and scooped him into her arms, holding him close. He was still her baby, her one and only dearest son, and would always be, however old he had gotten. It was both a source of wonder and torture for her to think that he would be leaving yet he would be making so much of himself. That her own long-cherished dream had come true… he had been found by the Jedi.  
“I’ll miss you.” Resting his head against her shoulder, he wondered if this might be the last time he would ever see his mother. He hoped it would not.  
Letting him go, Shmi brushed away the hair that obscured his clear blue eyes, seeing how the moisture was beginning to collect around the edges. “Remember to listen to Qui-Gon, he’ll be your guide. And don’t forget us.” Touching his cheek, she smiled bravely. “No matter where you are, my love will always be with you.”  
“I know, Mum. I’ll be thinking of you.”  
Mindful of the time, Qui-Gon glanced at Anakin. “Are you ready?”  
“I’m ready.” With one last look at his family and the homestead, Anakin climbed into the speeder.  
“Don’t look back Anakin, you have your future ahead of you!”  
“Goodbye!”  
Shmi watched the speeder leave until it was out of sight. It was only then that she allowed herself to cry.

Silence lay over Threed. A blanket of gloom had settled over the once vibrant city, the moonlit streets deserted except for the sound of troops patrolling, their heavy weapons glinting menacingly. As they marched past the entrance to the Palace, the heavy doors swung open and as if from a dark gaping mouth emerged the stooped and wheezing figure of General Grievous. Clattering down the steps, he came to a stop at the bottom, searching the midnight skies for something as yet unseen. After a while a small speck appeared far away in the distance, growing larger and larger until it was obviously a small spacecraft. It descended into the Plaza, the sound magnified in the extreme quiet and the engines whipping up a fierce wind. As the noise subsided, the ramp lowered and from the ship emerged an extravagantly dressed figure who immediately made their way over to the bottom of the steps where General Grievous was waiting, his cloak swirling about his bony frame.  
“Welcome to Naboo,” said the cyborg politely, “I hope you had a pleasant journey, my lord?”  
“Yes thank you,” replied Nute Gunray loftily. A tall, slender humanoid clad in a fashionable, ruffled sateen gown reinforced with defensive plating, he was the Viceroy and leader of the Hunnite system, the very system that had threatened to contest the election of the Naboo. A warlike people, in contrast to their neighbours, the Hunnites were well-known builders of armies and weapons, supplying many of the criminal warlords across the Outer Rim and beyond. Many would therefore have been interested to witness the meeting between Grievous and Gunray. Although the CLONE declared to be in opposition to the Hunnites, in reality they had much in common. The reform movement sweeping the Senate was anathema to the Hunnites as much as the CLONE, particularly since it was led by senators opposed to warfare and business practices such as theirs. Nute Gunray was very interested in ensuring that Naboo was subjected one way or another; Senator Palpatine was a continual thorn in his side and he was determined to defeat him and his Queen, hence why the General had invited him to discuss terms.  
“There is one thing I am not too happy about,” said the Viceroy prissily as they walked towards the Palace. “My spies inform me that the Queen has escaped.”  
“Yes, my lord,” explained Grievous, following the Viceroy as he ascended the grand marble stairs, “she managed to escape with the aid of two Jedi but we are pursuing her. Intelligence tells us that she is currently on Tatooine.”  
“Whatever is she doing there?” mused Nute Gunray, holding his robes aloft as he gingerly stepped over the corpses of Naboo guards, lying stiffly where they had fallen in the passageway. “But I don’t like this involvement of the Jedi. There is nobody more self-righteous than the Jedi, except maybe the Ruling Council of the Naboo.”  
“It was unfortunate,” admitted Grievous, “but we are certain that she will be forced to return to Naboo once she finds out that she will have no help from the Senate. I have been given personal assurance from my contacts on Coruscant that this will be so.”  
“Really?” asked the Viceroy, suddenly intrigued. “Well General, you surely know that we are more than willing to discuss terms with you? Shall we proceed?”  
“With pleasure, Viceroy.” There was no expression on the skeletal face but inside his black mind, Grievous was optimistic.

By the time the Naboo ship gradually came back into view, Anakin was feeling more optimistic and excited, not forgetting his sadness at leaving his mother but able to bury it deep down inside him.  
As the speeder came to a halt by the entrance ramp, they saw Obi-wan waiting to meet them. “Good, you’re back. Have you got the parts we need?”  
“They’re in the speeder,” explained Anakin, leaping out of the driving seat and going to open the storage compartment.  
“I’ll give you a hand,” muttered Cleeg, over-awed at being in the presence of two Jedi and overwhelmed by the cruiser, technology which he had never seen before.  
“I’ll go and get started.” Padmé headed determinedly inside the ship.  
The two Jedi followed her into the ship at a more leisurely pace. “Has Anakin chosen to come to Coruscant?”  
“He has.”  
“And you are quite sure he is the one you seek?”  
“Not quite sure, I am sure,” replied Qui-Gon with a glint in his eye. “He’s been through a lot and yes, I can sense some frustration and anger within him. But I can train that out of him.”  
“Now all you have to do is to convince the Council.”  
“A young man with his strength in the Force? They will have to train him!” Qui-Gon spoke with calm reassurance.  
Obi-wan smiled but he knew Qui-Gon was taking a huge risk. Due to the evangelical movement sweeping the Temple, the rules of the Order were being applied more rigidly than ever before. To take on a young man of Anakin’s age was not heard of; most Jedi began their training at the age of four or five. “Did you find out anything about his father?”  
“No, nothing,” sighed Qui-Gon, “I have a feeling Anakin’s conception was a trauma for Shmi, an ordeal which she has sought to push down within her to the extent of forgetting it completely. Even Anakin does not know anything about his father.”  
There were many reasons why that could be, especially considering the life of a slave and Obi-wan decided not to dwell on it. “Well then, we will take our chances with the Council. After all it would be folly to allow a young man with such power to be roaming freely in the galaxy.”  
“So we agree,” said Qui-Gon happily.  
After a pause Obi-wan asked, “Do you think he will find it a difficult transition?”  
“He won’t be lonely, if that’s what you mean.”  
“As long as he doesn’t get too close to Padmé,” remarked Obi-wan with a wry chuckle.  
“That’s true,” smiled Qui-Gon, “but we might as well let the boy have some fun before he enters the Temple.”  
Obi-wan smiled, he was glad sometimes that Qui-Gon was so irreverent. It was a breath of fresh air after the rigid structure of the Jedi training. “But don’t you think it is a shame Master that by training him to be a Jedi we will remove every ounce of fun from his life?”  
“Depends upon your definition of fun,” said Qui-Gon, who despite his flippancy was utterly devoted to the rules by which the Jedi lived. “I agree though, I think it will be a great stretch for him at times. Because of, his experiences, he understands the value of personal freedom.”  
“From what you tell me he has many skills.”  
“Yes, but like you he is rather reckless,” smiled Qui-Gon, remembering his terrifying ride into Mos Espa, “something we must curb. But, he has a great adeptness and feeling. I imagine that he can easily translate that into all his endeavours.”  
“You really believe in him, don’t you?” Obi-wan had never seen Qui-Gon quite so animated before. A sense of purpose emanated from him, as though he had found his calling.  
“I do,” said Qui-Gon simply, “and I hope for all our sakes so does the Jedi Council.”

“Finished.”  
Anakin leant back from the engine, a satisfied grin on his face.  
“Great, then we’re all set.” Like Anakin, Padmé was covered in grease and coolant fluid. Getting up from her cramped position on the floor of the engine room, she went over to check the fuel gauge. It was happily full. “We might make it to Coruscant this time.” Pressing the communicator, she spoke into the microphone. “Captain Panaka?”  
“Yes, Padmé?”  
“We’ve finished the engine. I suggest we check the ship a final time before we begin the return journey to Coruscant.”  
“Very good.” The intercom crackled with static. “Sorry Padmé, we’re picking up something peculiar on the scanner. Over and out.”  
“What’s happening?” asked Anakin, wiping his hands on his jerkin.  
“We better go and see,” said Padmé urgently to Anakin, “come on!”  
Leaving the tools scattered over the floor, he hurried after her out of the engine room and up into the main body of the ship. Entering the cockpit they found the crew and the two Jedi clustered around the scanner, staring at it as though an answer might appear.  
“What’s happening?”  
“We’re not sure,” said Captain Panaka, indicating the scanner. “Something is headed this way.”  
“It’s in a big hurry,” observed Anakin, peering over Padmé’s shoulder. “Only a speeder or a swoop bike could move that fast.”  
Wide-eyed, Obi-wan looked at Qui-Gon. “Who could it be?”  
“I’m not sure.” Qui-Gon continued to stare outside the cockpit at the still empty horizon. “Anakin, go and warn Cleeg before it reaches us.”  
“Right-o,” Anakin rushed out of the cockpit.  
“How long before we can take off?” Captain Panaka asked Ric Olie, who was watching various monitors closely.  
“A few more minutes yet.” He glanced round at the anxious onlookers, “We need more power to the shields.”  
“Very well.” Qui-Gon turned to the handmaiden behind him. “Padmé go and alert the Queen. We’ll go out and meet our visitor.”

“All we need to do is distract them.”  
Waiting outside, Obi-wan and Qui-Gon could hear the steady, growing whine of the engines as the ship started to warm up. Cleeg had already made his goodbyes to Anakin and headed off back to the homestead; the young man sent inside to help the pilot.  
“Look!”  
Where Obi-wan gestured, Qui-Gon saw approaching them on the horizon a dark shape, growing larger and larger as it advanced towards the ship. “It looks like a speeder…”  
“Watch out!”  
The two Jedi flung themselves to the ground as bursts of fire headed towards them, narrowly missing the ship by inches. Obi-wan rolled quickly over and jumped up, just in time to deflect more laser bursts with his lightsaber.  
“So it’s not friendly,” panted Qui-Gon, joining Obi-wan, lightsaber at the ready.  
Heading towards them was a speeder bike, the laser bursts becoming more and more frequent as it got closer to the ship, some smashing against the hull.  
“You head that way,” yelled Qui-Gon as the bike’s driver circled round in order to fire at them again, “deflect their fire towards them. Disable the engine!”  
“Easier said than done,” muttered Obi-wan, running towards the bike, his cloak flapping around his body. Behind him he could hear the ship straining on its struts; they didn’t have much time!  
The rider was coming round for another pass but now there were three targets and it was not so easy to aim. Reaching into a pack, the rider instead flung two smaller objects into the air. These unfolded and zipped towards the two Jedi, leaving the rider free to fire onto the now vulnerable ship.  
“Blast it,” cried Obi-wan, flinging himself to the ground as the detonator sailed over his head. From his position he focused on the object, caught it in his mind, willing it to circle round back to where it had come from. It was a struggle to concentrate amidst the noise and the chaos but soon he could feel the detonator bend to his will, forcing it back towards the mysterious rider. There was a flash and small explosion which rocked the speeder bike, sending it into a spinning freefall. But not before the sharp eyes of Obi-wan noticed something hanging from the belt of the mysterious rider, a thin metal tube that glinted in the suns…  
“Come on Obi-wan,” he heard Qui-Gon yelling, “leave it!”  
As they raced up the ramp and back onto the ship, already it was lifting up as the ship rocked on its supports, sending the two men tumbling into the corridor in a heap. It had been close but they were safe on board.

Struggling to his feet from the remnants of his wrecked speeder bike, clutching his arm where he had been wounded, the dark-clad rider watched in disappointment as the ship disappeared into the bright blue sky. Silently he cursed the two Jedi and set about recovering what he could of his broken transport.

Padmé rushed into the cruiser’s entrance hallway to find Qui-Gon and Obi-wan picking themselves up off the floor, both breathing heavily. “Are you all right?”  
“I think so,” said Qui-Gon, hauling himself to his feet and wincing. “That was interesting.”  
“You can say that again,” muttered Obi-wan, shaking his head.  
“What was it?”  
“I don’t know Padmé,” admitted Qui-Gon, “I have never seen anything like it before.”  
They returned to the cockpit, Padmé asking them continual questions about the strangely dressed speeder rider and the two Jedi trying to answer as best they could. Everything had happened so quickly it was difficult to make much sense of things.  
Ric Olie looked up as the two Jedi entered. “Good thing we escaped huh?”  
“I should say so.”  
“Whoever it was had a lightsaber,” said Obi-wan grimly.  
“A lightsaber?” Qui-Gon looked at Obi-wan archly, “are you sure?”  
“Yes. I distinctly saw one hanging from the rider’s belt. Unless it is a new type of blaster which happens to bear a resemblance to a lightsaber.”  
“Is the rider dead?” asked Padmé, wondering at the significance of Obi-wan’s observation.  
“No, we only destroyed their speeder,” said Qui-Gon solemnly, glancing at Obi-wan. “I would not be surprised if it is another attempt by the CLONE to prevent us from reaching Coruscant.”  
“Do you think they'll be able to follow us?” Anakin wanted to know.  
“Not now we’ve disabled their transport,” said Qui-Gon, “and it will take them a while to recover, so we should be safe for the time being.”  
“Our main priority now is to get to Coruscant,” commented Obi-wan dryly. “I’ll go and report to the Queen.”  
As Obi-wan left, Padmé turned to Anakin. “Are you alright?” she asked him, seeing that he had both his fingers crossed.  
“Yes, I’m just hoping the hyperdrive works.” After all the effort they had put into finding the parts and repairing the generator, it was not surprising he was anxious.  
“All set.” Ric Olie finished the final calculations and swung back into his seat. “Here we go.”  
Everybody in the cockpit held their breath as the pilot pulled back on the hyperdrive controls.  
“See, no problem.” Olie grinned as the familiar streak of stars formed outside the cockpit window.  
“Well done Anakin, Padmé. We are all in your debt.”  
“We were happy to help,” said Anakin, his optimism returned. “Mum always said life would be easier if people helped each other more.”  
“She’s right.” Qui-Gon patted his shoulder affectionately, “And I hope we can return the favour once we get to Coruscant.”  
For a moment the young man thought about the enormity of the adventure ahead of him. But there was something else on his mind, something which had been puzzling him ever since they had left Tatooine. “Master Jinn, can I ask a question? That lightsaber that Master Kenobi saw.”  
“Yes…?”  
“I thought that only the Jedi carried lightsabers.”  
“In one way you are right Anakin. For thousands of years only the Jedi have carried lightsabers. But our friend was definitely not a Jedi and there is only another type of warrior that would use a lightsaber.”  
“Who is that?”  
The Jedi Master paused for a long moment. “It could be that our mysterious warrior is a Sith.”  
“A Sith?” Anakin had never heard of one before.  
“They are the opposite to the Jedi,” explained Qui-Gon. “Whereas the Jedi draw their strength from the light side of the Force, the Sith seek to control the dark side. Their sole aim is to increase their own power and to have power over others; they are aggressive and cunning warriors.”  
“Would a Sith be working for the CLONE?” Padmé wanted to know.  
“I don’t know Padmé,” admitted Qui-Gon, scratching his chin. “The problem is that by rights this Sith should not exist. They have not existed for thousands of years since the Jedi wiped them out!”

“If you can put your seal here, my lord.” Grievous extended a bony finger. In the next moment the Viceroy stamped his acquiescence to joining the CLONE in their attempt to bring order to the Galaxy against the inefficient and crumbling Republic. “Thank you.”  
“Our armies can be at your disposal within days,” commented the Viceroy, smiling with pleasure. “The people of Naboo will not dare resist us now.”  
“Would you like a tour of the Palace, my lord?” Grievous ensured that the charter made between them was whisked away to be kept somewhere safe.  
The Viceroy said that he would be delighted. He was most interested to see the grandeur of the Palace’s lofty rooms and fittings, which displayed the wealth of Naboo’s elected monarchy. However, even more pleasing was the sight of Naboo’s governing Council trussed up in the throne room. Only Alaric Kassai was still free, standing silently beside the window from where he had watched the CLONE takeover of the city.  
Eyeing Kassai suspiciously, Viceroy Gunray walked over to the rest of the Council, armed troops keeping guard of the small and hapless group.  
“Viceroy Gunray,” exclaimed Sio Bibble, disgusted to see the Hunnite consorting with the CLONE. “I know you have sought any excuse to bring Naboo into your orbit but I would never believe that you would ally yourself with our enemies.”  
Nute Gunray only laughed. “You are impotent against us both, old man. When are you going to give up this pointless strike?”  
Sio Bibble looked at him defiantly. “This invasion will gain you nothing. I do not believe that my people would prefer to live under your tyranny than the rightful monarch whom they have elected.”  
“I seem to remember that many of the population were as displeased about the outcome as we were,” snorted Gunray, “maybe they will not share your convictions?”  
“Our people are united behind the Queen,” said Bibble firmly, refusing to be cowed by the Viceroy, “neither you nor the CLONE are welcome here!”  
“People will agree to almost anything when they are afraid,” sneered Nute Gunray, hitting him violently across the mouth, smiling as a welt of blood swelled beneath his nose.  
“And at the moment they are very afraid, I can assure you,” rumbled Grievous.  
Coughing as the blood ran into his throat, Bibble mumbled, “You can break our bodies but you cannot break our spirit.”  
“Very eloquent,” conceded Gunray, already bored with talking to the worthless little man. “But pretty words will not save you. Only the signature of your Queen.” Turning back to Grievous, he motioned towards the lone figure of Kassai, “Why is he free?”  
“Despite what they say about the pride of the Naboo, my lord,” chuckled Grievous, “it is possible to buy some of them.”  
“So this is the traitor you were telling me about,” said Gunray, going over to the philosopher and regarding him closely as though he were a fascinating object. “He does not look very prepossessing.”  
“Viceroy Gunray,” said Kassai assertively. Despite his support for the CLONE, he had little time for over-confident popinjays like Gunray. “It is an honour to have finally met you. You are everything that I have been led to expect.”  
“I see that my reputation precedes me,” sneered the Viceroy, caring very little for his opinion. Looking at Grievous, he motioned towards the hastily erected command centre, “I wonder if you would be willing to explain to me, General, exactly what you propose for the people of the Naboo.”  
“With pleasure my Lord.”  
As they wandered casually over, Kassai watched them with mixed feelings. Despite his eagerness to ally Naboo with the CLONE, seeing within them the means to fulfil his own plan of decreasing Naboo’s reliance upon the Republic, he felt a sense of guilt for the treatment meted out to them by Grievous. Yet if Naboo’s survival depended upon it then he would be resigned to it. For the Queen’s, and Senator Palpatine’s, support of the reforms put the planet into a very dangerous position; he believed it left Naboo, a very wealthy planet, open to exploitation. Even worse, the Republic could make them relinquish their sovereign powers. He had tried repeatedly since the takeover to explain this to Bibble, that the Republic they saw as a guardian of liberties could so easily become a challenger of the same. But the stupid old fool would not listen to him, would barely even look at him. Kassai was not so worried; eventually they would begin to see that the CLONE had only their best interests in mind, the only solution to the increasingly bloated and diffident Republic.

Wide-awake, Padmé lay in her cabin aboard the ship. Beside her slumbered Eirtaé, above her Rabé. She listened to their soft breathing, hoping the monotony could lull her to sleep. All night she had been trying. But countless fears were conspiring to rob her of rest. Thinking that some exercise might tire her out, Padmé climbed quietly out of bed. Grabbing a blanket, she wrapped herself in it before leaving the cabin, being careful not to wake her companions. But neither of them stirred.  
As she padded along, she reflected how the corridors of the ship seemed eerie in the emergency lighting, the noise of the engines magnified in the silence. Only Captain Panaka was awake (the dark circles under his eyes a testament to his own lack of sleep) but he was not in the mood for talking and shooed her back to her cabin. Reluctantly she followed his orders, but as Padmé rounded the last corner she collided with someone coming the other way. “Hey!”  
It was Anakin. “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed.  
“What are you doing up?” she asked, perhaps a little too primly.  
“I couldn’t sleep. The same reason why you’re here.”  
“There’s too much to think about,” she sighed then, holding the blanket close for comfort.  
Taking a seat in the main hold, Anakin encouraged the young woman to disclose some of her fears to him. “What if the Senate is unable to help us?” she said, kicking her feet against the edge of the seat, “There’s just so much that could go wrong.”  
So much for her telling him to be optimistic! “What does the Queen think?”  
“She has faith in the Republic and wants to believe that they will help us,” sighed the handmaiden. “Senator Palpatine has hopefully done all he can to prepare our case. But the future is so uncertain.”  
“Sometimes I dream about the future,” he said softly. “Sometimes I know what’s going to happen. But this time I don’t.”  
As they sat looking at each other, Padmé said quietly, “But whatever happens, you know, don’t you, that you don’t have to face it alone?”  
“I know.” His heart was trembling with some inner intensity and he struggled to make sense of the feelings she inspired within him. What else could make him feel delirious, nauseous, happy and terrified all at the same time?  
Tired as she was, she was curious about his insomnia. “What about you? Why can’t you sleep?”  
“I was thinking about the future too.”  
“Then we’re both silly,” smiled Padmé, “we can’t do much about it at the moment. Come on, we better try and get some sleep. It won’t be long before we’re in Coruscant!”


	5. Hope comes to Coruscant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queen Amidala and the Jedi arrive on Coruscant. The Queen is eager to win support in order to drive back the CLONE, and the Jedi are eager to get the Council to agree to Anakin's training. They also deliver the news of the strange individual they encountered on Tatooine. On a more personal note, Anakin says goodbye to Padme.

They reached Coruscant as dawn was breaking over the endless stretches of the cityscape. Anakin had never seen anything like it before; as the ship swooped low towards their designated landing platform, he marvelled at the massive skyscrapers, grandiose buildings and streams of traffic that swarmed around them. The sprawling city planet was beyond anything that he could ever have imagined; its vastness filled his vision, its possibilities thrilled his soul.  
“Coruscant, the capital of the Republic,” said the pilot, seeing Anakin’s open mouth. “What d’you think?”  
“I never imagined that it could be so… so big!” He was lost for words.  
Ric laughed at his lack of eloquence, “Big it is, but nice it is not. I would watch yourself whilst you are here.”  
“Right.” The ship swooped past one of the larger edifices and revealed a sight that made Anakin’s stomach lurch. Glimpsed on the horizon was the building from his dream. “What’s that building there?”  
“Which one?” Ric Olie was trying to concentrate on negotiating the emerging landing pad and did not immediately answer.  
“That one in front of us.” Anakin was pointing to a massive sprawling complex with four tall spires that dwarfed the buildings surrounding it.  
“Oh that one,” grunted the pilot, glancing up momentarily. “That’s the Jedi Temple.”  
Having landed, Anakin left the cockpit to join the rest of the passengers in the hold. As he entered, he could not help but notice the figure of Queen Amidala. It had been a while since he had seen the Queen and he had to stop himself from gawping. Dressed in an ornate gown of satiny red stuff lined with elaborate embroidery and fastenings, she struck him as being from another galaxy. The majestic headdress she wore and heavily made-up face further emphasised her status but there was something cold and aloof about the result that made Anakin feel nervous in her presence.  
“Well, Anakin,” said Obi-wan, going over to the young man. “Is Coruscant as you expected?”  
“Not at all,” replied Anakin, “I could never have imagined it would be quite so magnificent.”  
Qui-Gon smiled at his obvious sense of wonder, silently hoping that he would never lose it. Patting the young man on the shoulder he cautioned, “There is much to explore here but stay close to Obi-wan and I, we don’t want you getting lost.”  
“Yes, Master.”  
“Or distracted.” Obi-wan noticed that Anakin was not really engaged in what either of them had to say.  
“Pardon, Master Obi-wan?” Anakin looked at him blankly.  
“I said you should avoid getting distracted,” repeated the younger Jedi with a wry smile.  
“Oh, of course, sorry Master.” He was beginning to appreciate the warmth beneath Obi-wan’s reserved character.  
They could hear the humming of the ramp as it lowered and Qui-Gon turned to the doll-like Queen, “Here we are, your Highness. The city-planet of Coruscant.”  
“We are very grateful that your efforts have enabled us to come here,” she replied, raising her chin proudly. “Please lead the way, Master Jedi.”

Outside on the landing pad a small group waited to greet the Queen and her entourage. Although the sun had fought its way through the clouds it was still bitterly cold for the time of year and both Supreme Chancellor Valorum and Senator Palpatine were wrapped up warmly in thick, comforting furs. They were discussing the situation on Naboo, an issue that was proving both stubborn and frustrating, particularly for Senator Palpatine. A scion of one of the oldest families on Naboo, he had become a politician following the death of his parents, rising up the hierarchy with remarkable speed to represent his home planet in the Senate. With the reputation as a very able, sober and respectable politician, he was greatly admired by the Chancellor, who felt that he could rely on him to present the reality of the situation to the tension-ridden Senate.  
“As you well know my friend,” said Valorum stamping his feet to ward off the cold, “with so little evidence it may be difficult to persuade them of the danger that Naboo is in.”  
“Yes, a wall of silence surrounds our home,” replied Palpatine gravely, his breath hanging for a moment on the air, “but with the arrival of the Queen, hopefully her testimony will be enough to stir the coldest heart.”  
“It is certainly a novel approach.” Seeing the two Jedi emerge from the ship, Valorum turned to welcome them, “Ah, here are our ambassadors.”  
Reaching the two men, Qui-Gon and Obi-wan bowed respectfully. “Supreme Chancellor, Senator Palpatine.”  
“Welcome, Master Jedi,” said the Chancellor, beaming expressively. “It pleases us greatly to see that you are safe. We have barely heard anything about you since you left Coruscant.”  
“It has been a difficult time, your Excellency,” replied Qui-Gon. “We could not send any message for fear of compromising the Queen’s position.”  
“Please excuse me.” Whilst the Jedi spoke with the Chancellor, Senator Palpatine headed over to meet with Queen Amidala. Embracing her affectionately, he kissed each of her cheeks, “It is wonderful to see you here, your Majesty,” he said, his pale eyes shining in hope. “We feared the worst especially when communications with our home were broken. There has been no news save that which we have obtained with difficulty from sympathetic agents and that does not fill us with hope.”  
“Our only hope now is the support of the Senate,” replied the Queen tersely.  
Palpatine nodded sympathetically, “I imagine your journey here was a trial?”  
“It is only due to the Jedi that we are here at all. We owe them a great deal.”  
“I will certainly see that they are commended.” Palpatine smiled beatifically, “Your Highness, may I present Supreme Chancellor Valorum to you?”  
His chain of office glittering in the weak sunlight, the Supreme Chancellor bowed. “Welcome to Coruscant, your Highness. It is an honour to finally meet you in person. We must relay to you how distressed everyone is over Naboo. A special session of the Senate has been convened to discuss the state of affairs.”  
“We are grateful for your concern, Chancellor,” replied the Queen. “We hope that the Senate will effect a speedy solution to the intolerable situation that we find ourselves in.”  
“We can assure you, your Highness, that your interests will be the most dearest to us. But you must be tired after your arduous journey? We have arranged a suite of apartments for you that you can use during your stay here.”  
“Thank you, Chancellor.” Now that she had reached Coruscant, Queen Amidala finally began to realise how tired she was; the nights of broken sleep and days of nervous energy were catching up with her.  
“If your Highness will step this way, we have arranged a transport for you,” added Palpatine in his kindly manner.  
As Senator Palpatine took his leave and led Queen Amidala and her retinue towards their waiting transport, Padmé came over to where Anakin stood quietly next to the Jedi, still dizzy with all the new faces and sights. “Taking it all in?”  
“Yes,” he smiled. “It’s much grander than I imagined.”  
“What are you doing now?”  
“I don’t know,” the Jedi were still busy talking to the Chancellor.  
“Why don’t you come with me and check out the Queen’s apartments?”  
“Do you think she’ll mind?”  
“I expect she’ll be too tired to notice,” smiled the handmaiden conspiratorially.  
“I better ask Qui-Gon.”  
“Go on then,” chided Padmé, seeing that the Queen was already in the waiting transport, “we haven’t got much time.”  
“We are most grateful for your safe delivery of Queen Amidala,” Valorum was saying to Qui-Gon solemnly as Anakin approached them, “but your experiences do not bode well. They certainly will not help our cause concerning the dissent against the reforms in the Senate. It adds fuel to those who would oppose them.”  
Seeing that Obi-wan was stood slightly to one side, Anakin tapped him politely on the shoulder. “Master Kenobi?”  
“What can I do for you, Anakin?” asked the Jedi. He was pleased to have an excuse to stop listening to the droning voice of the Chancellor; Obi-wan was not very fond of politicians generally.  
“Can I go with Padmé to the Queen’s apartments?”  
Glad that the issue of what to do with Anakin whilst they prepared the Temple for his coming had been solved for them, Obi-wan nodded immediately. “Yes, I don't see why not. We’ll come and find you later.”  
“Thank you, Master Kenobi.”  
As Anakin headed towards the Queen’s transport with the impatient handmaiden, the Chancellor asked; “Who is that young man?” Despite his unprepossessing appearance he must be someone of importance to be accompanying the Queen.  
“That is Anakin Skywalker,” replied Qui-Gon, watching the young man as he climbed into the transport. “Without him we would have not been able to escape the Executor, nor would the Queen have reached Coruscant safely.”  
“He sounds like a remarkable young man,” mused the Chancellor. “Is he connected to the CLONE?”  
“He was in their enslavement for several years, your Excellency.”  
“How interesting,” said the Chancellor. “We must speak to him at some point. Anything we can learn about the CLONE will be of great use to us.”

Climbing into the transport behind Padmé, Anakin found that the only space left was between his friend and Rabé. Opposite him sat the Queen and an elegantly dressed older man whom Anakin supposed was Senator Palpatine.  
“This is your first time to Coruscant isn’t it?” asked the Queen. When Anakin nodded she managed a smile, “It is mine also.”  
“Her Highness thought you would see more of Coruscant by coming with us,” said Padmé, watching Anakin surreptitiously through dark lashes to see how he would handle himself in the circumstances.  
“Thank you, your Majesty.” He had to admit that the view from the transport was impressive; the densely packed skyscrapers, ornate buildings and immense variety of taste and style a huge revelation for the young man who, apart from his brief fling with the CLONE, had been immersed amongst mud huts and low-level hovels for most of his life. “It is an amazing place.”  
Watching the exchange between the young people, Palpatine looked at Anakin curiously. “Who is this charming young man?” he asked the Queen, noticing how friendly both she and her handmaidens were towards him.  
“This is Anakin Skywalker. Without him it is unlikely we would have made it to Coruscant.”  
“I was in the right place to help, your Highness,” said Anakin humbly. “Anyone in my situation would have done the same.”  
“How very modest,” replied the Senator kindly, looking at him with deepening interest. “Tell me Anakin, you are here because…?”  
“Master Jinn is to train Anakin to be a Jedi,” said Padmé, a note of pride in her voice.  
“Well, he hopes to,” added Anakin quickly.  
“I see,” smiled the Senator, his eyes twinkling. “You must be a remarkable young man if Master Jinn wishes to train you. Many venerate him as the perfect example of a Jedi Master. I hope Anakin, that you will keep us informed of your progress?”  
“Yes, your Honour.” He was amazed that important people like the Queen and the Senator could be interested in him, a nobody from Tatooine.

The apartment designated for the Queen was evocative of the wealth and status that the upper echelons of society enjoyed on Coruscant. It consisted of a luxurious suite of rooms with wood-panelled corridors and spacious chambers, decorated with fine furnishings from around the Galaxy and swathed with rich fabric hangings. Yet Queen Amidala was not there to amuse herself and she barely took notice of her surroundings, her mind overshadowed by the need to rectify the terrible circumstances that had brought her to Coruscant. After only a few hours of rest, she called an audience with Senator Palpatine, eager to find out for herself the truth of the situation and the likelihood of a resolution. But it was not the optimistic atmosphere that she had been hoping for when she had first considered the perilous journey. For a start, Palpatine was far more cynical about the workings of the Senate than he had previously indicated in his communications with her and the Council.  
“The Republic is not what it once was, your Highness” he explained. “I am ashamed to say that the Senate is increasingly under the sway of selfish politicians who are only looking out for themselves and their own systems. There is no interest in the common good, my lady. And I must be completely honest with you; in my mind there is little chance the Senate will act on the invasion.”  
“We did not come to Coruscant to hear this,” said the Queen, sitting rigidly upon a cushioned window seat. “We cannot believe the situation could be so intolerable.”  
“I only report the situation as I see it,” stated Palpatine humbly. “It may be that your presence here, and your personal testimony of the situation on Naboo, may overturn some of the complacency that has inflicted the minds of our Senators. Particularly since news of a treaty made between the CLONE and the Hunnites, and accepted by the Council of Naboo, has been received this very morning… ”  
“What do you mean, Senator?” If the Queen’s face was not already pale enough, this information robbed her of all colour.  
“The Council has ratified a treaty made between the CLONE and the Hunnites to, as they see it, rectify the situation on Naboo. It means, your Highness, that your election is contested and will have to be re-held.”  
“Surely this proves that the CLONE had no motivation to protect us,” said the Queen angrily, “they readily support the invasion of the Hunnites!”  
“It seems so, your Majesty.”  
“But how could our Council support it?” demanded the Queen, “they promised to defend our interests!”  
“The Hunnites have considerable armies, my Lady, as do the CLONE,” said the Senator sympathetically, understanding her concern. “Perhaps they were persuaded to take this course of action. Without any possibility of communication we cannot be certain, however.”  
“Is there anything we can do?” The Queen was at a loss how to proceed; it seemed that everything was stacked against her.  
“We must consider our actions carefully, your Highness, The Hunnites have not openly attacked the Republic and in the absence of information will be difficult to openly accuse them of subverting the lawful government of our home. However, we must draw the Senate’s attention to your own personal testimony; you must tell them what you told me about the blockade, your escape from the capital and the damage you sustained at the hands of the CLONE. You have seen it first hand and that will be our weapon against the lies of the CLONE.”  
The golden sunlight from the window created a halo around the Queen’s pensive face. “We hope you are right, Senator. What does Chancellor Valorum say?”  
“The Chancellor readily supports our cause. However, unfortunately he has little standing left in the Senate,” Palpatine was uncertain how to break the news to her; “Please forgive me that I must tell you this, your Highness, but Chancellor Valorum has been accused of corruption. The charges against him have only been postponed until this crisis has abated.”  
“What do you mean, corruption?” asked the Queen, her voice shaking slightly.  
“I cannot say, your Majesty, the details of the case are shrouded in secrecy. However, until the matter is investigated and Valorum has the opportunity to clear his name, it leaves the Chancellor in an awkward and vulnerable position.”   
“We had not realised the situation was so hopeless.” Considering his words, Queen Amidala shifted uncomfortably on her seat. “We were led to believe the Senate would be sympathetic to our plight.”  
“And so they will be, your Majesty. However, along with the power of your personal testimony there is only one other solution that I can suggest, a radical solution that will force the Senate out of its stupor.” Palpatine was staring out of the window, his passive expression at odds with the incendiary nature of his words and the fervour stirring in his watery eyes.  
“I do not understand your meaning,” frowned the Queen, glancing at her handmaidens.  
“Your Majesty we no longer have a strong Republic. Its leadership is weak. We need a strong leader, a strong Senate that will help us to lead an effective campaign against the CLONE rather than tolerating this confused and muddled attempt.” His worn face seemed galvanised by some novel inner thought process. “I propose that we withdraw our support from the Chancellor. Although it is hard for me to advise you to go against a dear colleague of mine, I really cannot see another alternative. As much as it pains me, your Highness, it is the only way forward.”  
“But how can a small planet such as Naboo precipitate so enormous a change?” Neither Queen Amidala nor the handmaidens had seen the Senator so animated before; they imagined he must truly believe that there was no other course of action.  
“Believe me your Majesty, there are other systems that will support us. After talking with Valorum I have reason to suspect that he too is beginning to see that his position is untenable. A vote of no confidence may well force him to step down and trigger an election.”  
But still it seemed rather extreme to her, she had no complaints about the Chancellor’s conduct. “The Chancellor has always been our most strongest supporter. Is there no other way to ensure a resolution?”  
“You must believe me I have thought long and hard about this course of action. As for other solutions… we could maybe submit a plea to the courts but I do not feel it would effect the immediate resolution that we so desperately require.”  
“The courts will take even longer to make a decision than the Senate,” agreed the Queen. “The lives of our people are at stake here.”  
Palpatine sighed, “Your Highness, I have always been truthful with you and I must continue to be. Now that you are here in person, we can hope it will be enough to sway the Senate. Yet if they still preach caution, I believe that unless a radical move is made, such as the one that I have suggested, we are going to have to accept the CLONE invasion for the time being.”  
“We cannot even countenance that premise,” said Queen Amidala sternly, “our people depend upon us.”  
“Your Highness, I am loathe to suggest that you pin your hopes on the Senate,” cautioned Palpatine, “remember all that I have told you.”  
Looking out towards the Senate, her mind racing, she said, “Leave us, Senator, we must consider our course of action alone.”  
“As you wish, your Highness.”  
And the dark-clad Senator left the young Queen gazing out of the window, her handmaidens around her, the featureless and heavily painted face a mask hiding the inner turmoil of her thoughts.

The Jedi Temple stood proud against the skyline, golden light from the sun glinting on the mellow stone. Inside the circular Council chamber, perched on top of the central spire, stood Qui-Gon bathed in the light from the surrounding windows; behind him stood Obi-wan. Around them sat the Council, listening intently to a detailed explanation of the mission, including the strange figure encountered on Tatooine.  
“Our only conclusion is that it was a Sith or a Dark Jedi,” said Qui-Gon sternly, aware that this was a piece of information the Council would not be happy to hear.  
“A Sith?” Mace Windu was incredulous.  
“Impossible!” echoed Ki ali mundi, “The Sith have been extinct for over a millennium. Why would they suddenly reappear now?”  
“If it was a Sith then our very existence is threatened.” Mace Windu took a more balanced approach than his colleagues but still he was uncertain. “Strange that there was no forewarning of this from the Force.”  
“It may be an explanation for the disruption we have all felt,” said Dooku thoughtfully.  
“I do not believe they could have returned without us knowing,” stated Ki ali mundi sceptically. He was not convinced of the assassin’s identity. “Are you certain, Obi-wan, of what you saw?”  
“I am,” replied Obi-wan; mediation through the Force had only sharpened the image in his mind. “This warrior carried a lightsaber and he would have used it against us had we not been able to escape.”  
“It is a shame that you did not manage to capture this warrior,” said Mace, “then we may have been without any doubt.”  
“The Queen’s safety was paramount,” stated Qui-Gon, refusing to be drawn into a debate, “and exposure to a Sith could have undermined this priority.”  
“We must discover who this warrior is, that is evident,” said Plo Keen bluntly.  
“If he is a Sith then he will reveal himself again,” said Qui-Gon resolutely, “they are not ones to hide for long.”  
“Destruction is their intent,” agreed Dooku ominously, “and with the Republic under increasing strain they will have chosen the time to reveal themselves purposefully.”  
“As Master Qui-Gon states, this attack was with purpose. And I agree the Queen is the target.” Kil ali mundi was still not convinced. “But it does not follow that they are a Sith or a Jedi for that matter.”  
“I propose we need more evidence before we make a decision on this matter,” said Mace Windu to general agreement from the rest of the Council. “There is one way in which that is possible.” Folding his hands carefully, Windu looked at Qui-Gon. “With Queen Amidala you must stay.”  
“Yes Master.” Qui-Gon felt the judgment was fair.  
“We will gather our resources here to begin to unravel this mystery and discover the identity of the Queen’s attacker,” added Mace Windu kindly.  
“With your permission, Master Windu, I have a request to ask of the Council.”  
“You do?” Mace sensed it was something of great importance, “please reveal it.”  
“I believe I have discovered a reason for the disturbance we have all felt in the Force.”  
The twelve Jedi leaned forward, their interest piqued.  
“A reason, you say?”  
“Yes, Master Dooku.”  
“Would this be an individual?” asked Mace Windu remembering the conversation he had with the Jedi before he had left for Naboo.  
“Yes, we rescued a young man from the CLONE. The son of Shmi Skywalker.”  
There was an outbreak of excited murmuring amongst the Council as they reacted to the information.  
“Has he the signs?” asked Hedi Junnan, the crystals that mingled with her hazel curls chiming softly as she spoke.  
“He has the strongest connection with the Force I have ever seen, almost as though he were a conduit for it,” said Qui-Gon as soon the Chamber quietened down again. “If you were to see him for yourself, I know you would be convinced.”  
“You refer, I believe, to the prophecy of the Chosen One,” reinforced Mace Windu, raising his eyebrows. “You believe it is this young man?”  
“I do and I request the boy be tested,” replied Qui-Gon. “Then we will be certain.”  
There were whisperings and murmurs as the Council conferred for a moment, Qui-Gon feeling more than tension; all the hopes he had for Anakin rested on this moment.   
Mace Windu spoke eventually. “Bring him before us. The tests will help us to decide.” Despite his reservations he was intrigued to meet the young man that Qui-Gon believed had so much promise.

“Did you say goodbye to Padmé?” asked Qui-Gon kindly as he escorted Anakin through the Jedi Temple towards the Council chamber. He knew it would be difficult for the young man considering the bond that had developed between him and the handmaiden. But like his family, he had to be prepared to never see her again.  
“Yes,” replied Anakin, tearing his eyes from the opulent surroundings in which he found himself. Ever since he had entered with Qui-Gon he had been marvelling at the grandeur of the Temple and the immense statues that lined the corridor in which they walked. They represented, as Qui-Gon had informed him, great warriors and scholars from the hallowed centuries of Jedi history, their noble aspects proving inspiration and enlightenment for the thousands of Jedi that passed beneath them.  
“Good,” said Qui-Gon, “now you must focus your mind on becoming a Jedi. If the Council see that you are serious, it will help our cause.”  
“Yes, Master Qui-Gon.” He was determined to do well.

As the elevator rocketed to the uppermost floor of the Jedi Temple, his mind flittered back to when he had said goodbye to Padmé. It had not been as easy as he hoped; at the back of his mind he knew it would be the last time he would see her and this only made him feel sad. However, Padmé was in a cheerful mood and if she had noticed his sadness, she did not mention it. Instead she embraced him and gently kissed him on the cheek. “Good luck Anakin, I hope the Council are willing to train you.”  
“Me too,” he smiled, comforted by her friendly manner.  
“Come on, the Queen wants to wish you well too.”  
They found the Queen in the main reception room of the apartment waiting to go to the Senate; she was dressed in full regalia, her face painted very pale, the rosebud lips picked out and two scarlet dots where the gentle blush of her cheeks should be. Her hair was hidden away, contained beneath a long, lacy veil that swept to the floor to join the cream satin of her skirts. Next to her, the handmaidens seemed rather plain, hidden beneath their long, concealing robes.  
“I hope you convince the Senate to help you, your Majesty,” he said to her, bowing politely.  
“Thank you, Anakin,” replied the Queen tersely; she was so nervous she could hardly raise a smile. “Is it time for you to go to the Temple?”  
“Yes, I’m going to meet Qui-Gon and Obi-wan.”  
“Our most benevolent wishes go with you,” she said more kindly. “We imagine that training to be a Jedi will be difficult.”  
“Thank you, your Majesty.”  
“Goodbye, Anakin, and thank you for everything you have done for us.”  
“Goodbye, Anakin,” said the three handmaidens. “We’ll be thinking of you.”  
“Goodbye” said Anakin, “I will never forgot your kindness to me.” And with one last look at Padmé, who smiled back, he headed out of the apartments and towards his fate.


	6. Hopes are dashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite her confidence, and the support of Senator Palpatine, Queen Amidala finds herself outmanoeuvred in the Senate. Annoyed, she makes preparations to return to Naboo to face the CLONE without the Senate's support. Qui-Gon is also disappointed when Anakin fails the tests administered to him by the Jedi Council and they refuse to train him until he has proved himself. Qui-Gon and Obi-wan are tasked with returning to Naboo with Queen Amidala to prevent a confrontation with the CLONE. Meanwhile, Count Dooku travels to the Sith temple on Korriban to find out what he can about the return of the Sith.

It was a packed session in the Senate. Thousands of senators were crammed into the circular assembly hall underneath its vast dome which had stood since the foundation of the Republic thousands of years ago. Beneath this canopy, Queen Amidala and Senator Palpatine sat with the three handmaidens and Captain Panaka in the Naboo congressional pod. Around them, hundreds of aides and droids rushed to and fro taking messages, setting up communications systems and ferrying senators to the correct pod. It was organised chaos.  
Palpatine moved over to the Queen, who was staring fixedly ahead of her. “Remember my counsel in this matter, your Majesty.”  
Only her eyes flickered. “Patience Chancellor, it may not be necessary.”  
“I wish there was another way, your Highness. I sincerely do. Valorum has always been an ally of Naboo, and a dear friend of mine, but as you will see, I suspect that he is powerless to act. His reputation has been damaged - those who seek to undermine him may seize the initiative.”  
Queen Amidala looked across to where Valorum conferred with the Vice Chancellor. “Are you suggesting that Chancellor Valorum will not be able to bring our motion to a vote?”  
“It’s not that he will not try, your Majesty, but he is, how can I put it, distracted by the looming charges against him. I cannot see how he can be of any help…”  
In the distance, the Chancellor rose to his feet.  
“…But time may prove me wrong, your Majesty. I hope for all our sakes.”  
The Chancellor proceeded to open the Senate with an elegant address, highlighting the millennia of peace enjoyed by the Republic, his continued wish to ensure the longevity of the stability they all desired and a veiled repudiation of the corruption charges levelled against him. “However it has come to our attention,” he said gravely, “that others seek to undermine our stability and use anxiety and fear against us. To inform us of an alarming development, the Chair recognises the Senator from the sovereign system of Naboo.”  
The Naboo congressional box floated into the centre of the chamber and Senator Palpatine got to his feet. “Supreme Chancellor, delegates of the Senate,” he began, his kindly voice magnified about the chamber. “A tragedy has occurred that had disrupted our peaceful system of Naboo. We have become caught in a dispute you're all well aware of, which has now engulfed our entire planet in the oppression of the CLONE, a confederacy of systems intent, as the Supreme Chancellor indicated, on disrupting the stability of our Republic. To state our allegations, I present Queen Amidala, the recently elected ruler of Naboo, who can speak with real experience of this travesty.”  
Standing to a ripple of applause, Queen Amidala looked fearlessly across the Senate, her magnificent appearance lending her an air of formality and authority that contradicted her youth. “Honourable representatives of the Republic, distinguished delegates, and your Honour, Supreme Chancellor Valorum, we travelled in person to present our petition to you, forced by the gravest of circumstances. The Naboo system has been invaded by force, invaded against all the laws of the Republic by the Army of the CLONE and supported to our knowledge from recent intelligence by the Viceroy Nute Gunray of the Hunnite system…”  
Unexpectedly, a second pod rushed into the centre of the Senate. “I must object to my reverend colleague’s statements,” said the Senator of Hunnite with authority. “There is no proof to suggest that the Viceroy supports the invasion of Naboo and I object that until a proper investigation is undertaken…”  
“With respect, Senator, we do have proof.” Queen Amidala indicated the Senator to the Chancellor’s pod. “Chancellor Valorum, we refer you to the intelligence report we submitted which indicates the arrival of Viceroy Gunray not long after the CLONE took possession of our system.”  
“Yes, the CLONE at first offered you protection against the Hunnites but this report suggests that the CLONE and the Hunnites are working together.”  
“They both have the same objective,” asserted the Queen, “to dominate the people of the Naboo and force us to abdicate in order to bring about fresh elections which they can then control.”  
“Preposterous! This report is fabricated,” argued the Hunnite's Senator. “We have more convincing evidence that suggests the Council of Naboo invited the CLONE to their system in order to replace the ineffectual rule of Queen Amidala.”  
Within her pod the Queen grasped the handrail more firmly, whilst Palpatine paled visibly. Such a claim was unexpected.  
“Then why was this not sent to us before the session?” demanded the Chancellor.  
“The evidence is being brought to you now, Chancellor Valorum,” pointed out the Senator as an aide scuttled towards the centre of the chamber.  
“Senator Occila, we demand that you follow proper protocol,” ordered the Chancellor, not wishing to upset such a valued system as Naboo. “Your evidence needed to have been sent to us before the session commenced.”  
“We demand our evidence be considered and a commission be sent to Naboo to ascertain the truth.”  
“Overruled.” Valorum looked with sympathy at the young Queen, struggling to contain her disbelief at the Senator’s continual interruptions. “We need time to consider your evidence before we can make that decision.”  
“Your Honour, in light of there being no acceptable proof that the Hunnites are supporting the CLONE,” continued Occila, determined to be heard, “you cannot allow us to be condemned without reasonable observation. It's against all the rules of procedure - and procedure is very important to the Senate is it not?”  
A third pod representing Malastare moved into the centre of the chamber. Aks Moe, the stern-looking Ambassador, addressed the convention. “The Congress of Malastare concurs with the honourable delegate from the Hunnite System. A commission must be appointed. That is the law.”  
There were some rumblings amongst the seated senators and delegates about the need to adhere to the law especially considering the scandal surrounding the Chancellor, which was still subject to commission itself. Hearing the murmurs, Valorum felt his stance evaporate, knowing that he could not avoid strict procedure this time to help the Queen and Naboo. Even during an unlawful invasion. Turning to his aides, he conferred for the moment, Vice-chancellor Mas Amadda keeping an eye on the belligerent senators.  
Watching all this anxiously was the young Queen, remembering what Palpatine had told her earlier. As he leaned over towards her, he whispered. “My lady, this evidence that they have obtained could be devastating.”  
“We cannot believe it is true, Chancellor,” the Queen whispered back sternly, “until we are allowed to see it.”  
“The point is conceded,” Chancellor Valorum took to the stage again, looking weary. “Section 523A must take precedence here. Queen Amidala, will you defer your motion to allow a commission to explore the validity of your accusations and examine the evidence brought before us?”  
Now there was nothing to stop the CLONE! Queen Amidala was furious. “We do not wish to defer, Supreme Chancellor. Our system has been unlawfully invaded! The Republic has already failed to deal swiftly with other systems invaded by the CLONE. Why must Naboo be condemned to fall under their sway?” Stirred by her passions, the Queen almost lost her regal intonation, “When we came here, we were surprised to hear that the Senate was no longer functioning properly, that it could no longer protect the many star systems under its governance. However, now we see that the reports are true. For far too long the Senate has been culpable of inaction.” She looked purposefully at Valorum. “We cannot argue prevent this commission but we can withdraw our support from the Republic until the situation is remedied.”  
“Your Majesty, we understand your concern,” said the Chancellor “but I beg you to reconsider this drastic course of action.”  
The Queen’s words had caused a great stir in the assembly. At first it was only a loud murmur reverberating around the fringes of the assembly, but it grew and grew into a crescendo of approval and jeers.  
Stunned, Chancellor Valorum knew his position was in danger if other systems lent their support to Naboo. Seeing the confusion and uncertainty gripping the Chancellor, Mas Amadda stepped forward.  
“Order! We shall have order!”  
The roar in the Senate settled down but there were still murmurings and whisperings amongst the senators.  
Finally seeing for himself the loss of direction he had suspected for a long time, Viceroy Bail Organa moved his pod into the centre of the chamber. His planet, Alderaan, like Naboo, was a peaceful planet and he feared such systems were easy targets for powerful interests of the CLONE. “Alderaan puts forward the motion for withdrawal from the Republic unless the situation with Naboo is resolved.”  
“A motion of withdrawal has been put forward by Bail Organa of Alderaan.”  
It was swiftly followed by more gestures of support for the motion suggested by the young Queen, evoked by her emotional outburst and their own fear that if Naboo had fallen to the CLONE, other systems could fall suit.  
For a tense moment, Valorum and Mas Amadda conferred in their central pod, the Chancellor visibly distressed by the reaction of the Senate.  
Conferring with his colleagues, Senator Occila kept one eye on proceedings, forgetting his own determination to push for a commission to be sent to Naboo. The Queen’s radical action had astounded him.  
In Naboo’s pod, Senator Palpatine moved over to stand next to the Queen, keenly watching the procedures.  
She turned to look at him, “We hope we have acted properly, Senator.”  
“But observe, your Majesty, general opinion is with us,” insisted the Chancellor. “It dismays me to say this but Valorum’s star has waned. He no longer commands the authority of the Senate. But he is still a man of honour; he will do what is right and your brave actions will enable the Senate to elect a new Chancellor, one who will not let our tragedy continue.”  
“The Supreme Chancellor requests a recess.”  
Silently, Chancellor Valorum watched as Queen Amidala and Senator Palpatine left the chamber, aware that he no longer had the respect and control of the Senate. A proud man, it was hard for him to admit but there was only one thing left that he could do.  
As the senators flooded out the central chamber many speculated that the Chancellor would resign before he was forced to leave. It would save the risk of a public disgrace. Will he or won’t he… they certainly talked about little else in the hallways and the bars of the Senate building that evening.

Oblivious to the riotous events in the Senate, Obi-wan and Qui-Gon enjoyed a peaceful moment watching the impressive sunset from the balcony of the Jedi Temple. Both of them were concerned with Anakin, who was at that moment taking the series of tests designed for him by the Council. Qui-Gon, in particular, had invested so much of himself within the young man’s acceptance to the Order it was not only Anakin’s future that was riding on the outcome.  
“I hope Anakin does not let you down, Master. He is strong in the Force but will he have the commitment to become a Jedi?”  
“Anakin will become a Jedi,” insisted Qui-Gon stubbornly. “I promised him. I would not have brought him this far from home if I did not know how important his future will be for us all.”  
“And if the Council refuse to train him?”  
“I will do what I must,” said Qui-Gon quietly, the peaceful nature of the evening reflecting his own composure. “If necessary I will train him myself without the permission of the Council.” He knew at least one member of the Council who would tolerate such an action.  
“Do not defy the Council again, Master. Their patience is wearing thin.”  
“I am surprised at you Obi-wan, I thought you were more adventurous!”  
Shaking his head, Obi-wan knew that his Master would not back down, not now and not ever. “I am only concerned for you and for Anakin. Could he handle the rejection?”  
“I have to believe that they will not reject him.” Qui-Gon could not allow himself to countenance that possibility… only if it happened would he deal with it. “And so must you. If we have no hope in him then Anakin will be lost.” 

It had been two long days inside the Jedi Temple and Anakin was back before the scrutiny of the Council. After a series of intense and exhausting tests, he was waiting for their verdict knowing that his whole future was riding on this moment.  
“Well, young Skywalker,” said Mace Windu calmly, “How do you feel?”  
Outside thin clouds scuttled past the windows. The wind was rising. “I feel optimistic, but also nervous, Master.”  
“I am not surprised you are nervous.” Mace looked at him searchingly. There was definitely something unusual about the young man. He seemed to warp the Force around him so that it appeared to the ancient Jedi Master as a shimmering cloud of bright points, fixed about him like tiny stars. “But why would you be feeling optimistic?”  
“Because I know I have tried my best.” Confronted with the penetrating gaze of Master Windu, he felt some doubt beginning to creep in.  
“I sense that you are afraid,” he continued. “What are you afraid of, Anakin? Are you afraid to give up your life of freedom for that of a Jedi?”  
“Not really, I barely know what it means to be free,” admitted the young man.  
“Then it is something else,” said Ki ali mundi, wondering to make of the young man stood before them. There was much turbulence about him and within him. He folded his hands carefully in his lap as silence once more fell.  
Uncertain as to their meaning, Anakin felt horribly exposed, feeling the sweat slipping down his neck.  
“I sense that your thoughts dwell on those close to you,” Mace Windu broke the oppressive silence, glancing at the rest of the Council. “You fear their loss.”  
“Yes, Master.” Anakin found it disconcerting that they could tell what he was thinking - his feelings were not even that clear in his own mind.  
“You must be more mindful of your feelings; you must lose all such fears if you are to become a Jedi.”  
“Why is that, Master Windu?”  
“Fear is the path to the dark side, Anakin,” said Windu solemnly. “Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering. You have had a hard life, Anakin, and it is not surprising to us that it has affected you in this way. However, it will make your training far more challenging. You must have the deepest commitment not only to learn the ways of the Jedi Order but also to let go of the fears you have learned from your past.”  
“Yes Master.”  
“You must demonstrate this commitment to us, Anakin.”  
“I will,” said Anakin firmly, “I’m not afraid.” Their words had struck something deep inside him and he found the strength to withstand their unwavering gaze.  
Looking across at the Council, knowing that they were as ambivalent as he, Mace Windu smiled. “Then we will request Master Jinn rejoins us.”

Far across the city, Queen Amidala stood silently by the window. Beneath her, lights glowed damply in the quieter streets, struggling to penetrate the rising mist. Her time in the Senate had been a revelation for the young Queen; it had shaken her firm belief in the ability of the Senate to act in the interests of vulnerable systems and called into question the integrity of its structures. What hope did vulnerable systems such as hers have against the attentions of the CLONE if the Republic could not help them?  
The door to the apartment opened and Rabé entered the room with a tray of drinks, looking tired and drained of colour.  
“Any word yet?” The Queen retained her position by the window.  
“Not yet, your Majesty.” Rabé came over to the window. Handing a cup to the Queen, she heaved a great sigh. “Why is this happening to us? We are a peaceful people; we have not caused any wars or acted unkindly towards other systems. Why must we be made to suffer?”  
“I wish I knew the answer,” said the Queen despondently, turning the cup in her hands to warm them. “Perhaps it is to remind us that we should not grow too complacent? That we must always be aware of the wider situation around us and the implications of our actions.”  
“Do you think our people are safe?” asked Rabé, tears forming in her eyes.  
“I don’t know,” replied the Queen, feeling as helpless as her handmaiden. There had been no communication from Naboo since the message from Alaric Kassai, nothing but agonising silence. “We must hope that they are holding out. Our people are brave.”  
“Your Majesty, please excuse our interruption.” Captain Panaka rushed in breathlessly, causing the two young females to turn from the window. Eirtaé and Padmé, both with flushed cheeks, and an exhausted looking Senator Palpatine followed him. “We bring news from the Senate. Chancellor Valorum, as suspected, has resigned…”  
“…to prevent more systems withdrawing their support,” added Padmé, as highly animated as the Captain. “He said publicly that he feels stronger leadership would have averted this crisis.”  
“And yet more excellent news, your Highness,” continued Panaka, “Senator Palpatine is one of the nominations to succeed Valorum as Supreme Chancellor!”  
Queen Amidala was visibly shocked, “When was this decided?”  
“Not long before, your Highness.” Palpatine smiled with less reserve than usual. “It was certainly a surprise to be nominated, and I am up against some very tough competition. But I see this as a sign of hope, your Highness.”  
“Who else has been nominated?”  
“Veedaaz Awmetth of Sarran, Aks Moe of Malastare, Fang Zar of Andalia and Gideeon Unbram of Selonia,” Eirtaé said quickly, glancing at Senator Palpatine.  
“They are formidable opponents, Senator,” the Queen commented tersely, “and two are under the influence of the CLONE, are they not?”  
“They are, Madam. Therefore I am hopeful that the vote will be cast for Senator Fang Zar. He has already expressed sympathy for our cause.”  
She looked at him curiously, “You do not hold much hope for yourself, Senator?”  
“I cannot be so bold as to believe that I will attract the majority of the vote,” replied Palpatine humbly. “However, if I am fortunate enough to be elected to this great honour, I intend to put an end to the inaction and indecision that is destroying the foundations of the Republic. Return us to the time when the Republic stood for the firmest principles of virtue and honour.”  
Queen Amidala nodded. “Our support goes with you, Senator Palpatine, we are certain that your intentions will be well received. But we cannot see how this election will help us. Whilst we wait for an outcome, Naboo continues to be under the control of the CLONE.”  
“I understand your concern, your Majesty but at the moment there is no more that we can do. Without the full support of the Senate behind us and the will to resolve the effects of this adverse situation, the CLONE remains in possession of our planet.”  
Taking a deep breath Queen Amidala was determined to stress the personal nature of her decision. “In that case, I have made my decision. I will return to Naboo.”  
Palpatine looked at her in shock. “Return to Naboo?”  
“I can do no more here,” she said simply. “My place is with my people.”  
“But, your Majesty, you would be putting yourself in grave danger! The CLONE will force you to sign their treaty.”  
“I will not sign any treaty,” said Queen Amidala confidently. “They can throw me into jail if they wish. However, I would rather be at home where I can support the resistance to the CLONE rather than be sheltered here, achieving nothing.”  
“That is not true, your Highness,” emphasised the Senator, wringing his hands with anxiety, “your presence here can only strengthen…”  
“I have made up my mind, Senator. I do not like the idea of hiding here whilst our people suffer,” said the Queen firmly, her dark eyes flashing with conviction, “My fate must be shared with theirs. Captain!”  
Captain Panaka sprang to attention, admiring the fortitude of the young Queen. “Yes, your Highness?”  
“Ready our ship immediately.”  
“But to leave so late. Please your Majesty,” pleaded Palpatine, “stay here, where it is safe.”  
“No place is safe if the Senate condones the CLONE’s invasions.” The Queen looked at him sadly. “We thought the Senate to have brought us hope but it only brings disappointment.”  
“I can understand your disappointment, your Highness, I am sorry that you had a wasted journey to Coruscant.”  
“It will not be wasted if a stronger Republic emerges from our suffering,” murmured the Queen.  
“Indeed.” Kissing her on both cheeks, Palpatine looked at her admirably. “I pray you will be careful not to place yourself in unnecessary danger, your Highness.”  
“And I pray that if you win the election, Senator, you will do everything in your power to stop the CLONE.”

Meanwhile in the Council chamber, Anakin stood stiffly in-between Obi-wan and Qui-Gon.  
“You were correct,” said Master Windu to Qui-Gon, “Anakin has one of the strongest connections to the Force we have ever seen, even in a trained Jedi. He has many talents and abilities which would be put to good use if he were to join the Order.”  
Qui-Gon felt his shoulders relax and put his hand onto Anakin’s shoulder. “Then he has passed the tests?”  
There was an awkward silence as the Jedi Council looked at each other.  
Anakin felt the sweat break out on his forehead.  
Still Qui-Gon looked hopeful.  
Obi-wan fidgeted.  
“Not yet.” Mace Windu was not ready to capitulate. “First Anakin must demonstrate his commitment to the Order. The Council wishes to know that he chooses this path truly of his own volition and not simply to appease the Jedi Master who rescued him from slavery.”  
Crestfallen, Qui-Gon asked, “How might he demonstrate his commitment?”  
“We sense much anger in him, much fear. Anakin must be more aware of these emotions before he can begin his training.” In reality the Council were unsure quite how to deal with the young man presented to them; he was powerful certainly but within him was also a startling vulnerability in regards to his emotions. In their minds these two things together did not a powerful Jedi make.  
“There may be other flaws,” said Ki ali mundi, “hidden as yet by his youth. Yes he has great strength in the Force but these emotions will make him unpredictable.”  
“Besides, he is very old to start training as a Jedi,” added Plo Keen. “If we had found him sooner then the negative aspects of his character would not have taken such a hold.”  
“Then, what is your counsel?” Qui-Gon noticed that Count Dooku had remained silent throughout the proceedings. He looked back sympathetically at Qui-Gon as if to say I told you so.  
“With respect,” said Obi-wan, wishing to support his Master, “surely we cannot allow this young man to be roaming the Galaxy freely? Especially with the suspected re-emergence of the Sith.”  
“We accept your point, Kenobi. For the time being Anakin will remain with you. His performance will demonstrate to us his commitment to the way of life of a Jedi.”  
Silently, Anakin listened to their debate with mixed feelings; even though Qui-Gon had been honest about his chances, the lack of a decision one way or another disappointed him.  
“I do not see the sense in your opposition,” continued Qui-Gon firmly, desirous to make his disappointment clear. “I can take Anakin on as my pupil, Obi-wan and I will train him, you do not have to...”  
“Silence.” Master Windu was convinced that Qui-Gon’s intransigence was connected to his own status as a Jedi as well as his all-consuming belief in Anakin Skywalker to be the Chosen One. “Now is not the time for this, Master Jinn. I need you and Obi-wan to return to Naboo immediately.”  
“Why, what has happened?” It was rare that events outside the Temple infiltrated into its walls, except through the mediation of the Council.  
“The Senate has been unable to resolve the dispute between Naboo, the Hunnites and the CLONE. Chancellor Valorum has been forced to resign,” explained Dooku.  
“The Chancellor has resigned?” repeated Obi-wan in surprise. “Why?”  
“Queen Amidala threatened to withdraw Naboo from the Republic in response to the Senate’s sanction of the invasion,” said Hedi Junnan gravely, “a move supported by several other systems, including Alderaan.”  
“I am surprised the young Queen would have even considered such a move,” said Qui-Gon in surprise.  
“It is likely that she was counselled,” replied Ki ali mundi. “Senator Palpatine of Naboo is one of the chosen nominations for Supreme Chancellor, it may be that his hand is behind the Queen’s motion.”  
“The politics of the situation hardly concern us,” continued Plo Keen, “whoever counselled it, the situation remains the same. The Queen has made the decision to return home, which will put pressure on the CLONE and could exacerbate a confrontation. You must return with her.”  
“Several systems have pledged their support and military assistance,” explained Master Windu. “This may help the Queen in her endeavours, however it may not be enough to intimidate the CLONE. I suggest that you investigate the opportunity for alliance with the Gungans, the indigenous people.”  
“I believed that the Gungans and the human inhabitants of Naboo lived in conflict with each other?” said Obi-wan.  
“That is true,” said Qui-Gon, “however, this may be a time to suspend their differences.”  
“I am concerned that the presence of the Queen on Naboo might force the mysterious warrior out of hiding,” said Hedi Junnan.  
There were murmurings of agreement. “That is another reason to be cautious in your actions, Qui-Gon,” warned Mace.  
“In the meantime I will visit the remains of the Sith Temple on Korriban,” said Count Dooku wearily, “to see if anything can be revealed to us about the heritage of this warrior.”  
Taking a deep breath, Qui-Gon glanced at Obi-wan. He felt only disappointment at the decision of the Council but he knew he must suspend his feelings to concentrate on the mission ahead. As a Jedi it was expected of him. “We are pleased to take on this mission. What about…?”  
“You can take Anakin with you,” said Windu, pleased to see that Anakin had remained composed throughout the discussion; he seemed to have accepted their decision, more so than his mentor. “How he handles himself will help to decide his fate.”  
“Thank you.”  
“Remember, your priority is to protect the Queen at all costs. The Senate will not look kindly upon us if we allow her to become exposed to unnecessary danger.”  
“With respect, Master Windu, the Queen has very strong opinions about the invasion.”  
“Then it will be your role to temper her spirit with the necessary caution.”  
“I understand, Master Windu.”  
“You will proceed to the Queen’s apartments immediately, we have news that she is to return to Naboo this night. May the Force be with you.”

It was true that Queen Amidala was in a hurry to leave Coruscant; when the two Jedi and Anakin reached her plush apartments, they were told that she had already left. Frustrated, Qui-Gon hoped that they would not have to follow the Queen around the city on a wild bantha chase.

It was a cold night. Arriving at the landing platform where the Queen’s cruiser was being prepared, Qui-Gon found out from the talking to the security guards that she had not yet arrived. As they walked across the exposed platform, the wind whipped the Jedi’s cloaks about them, poor Anakin freezing in his thin garments, more suited to the hot Tatooine climate. He hugged his arms about him, wishing that the Queen would hurry up.  
Obi-wan was concerned for Qui-Gon’s state of mind, trying to understand why he was unhappy with the considered decision of the Council. “Do you not trust their judgement?” he asked his Master over the noise of the wind and traffic.  
“I respect their judgement, but I trust my instinct,” said Qui-Gon quietly, still hurting over the Council’s decision. He felt as though they showed distrust in his own judgement as well as failing to see the potential in Anakin. “I know he is the one the prophecy alludes to. Anyway, they said they would consider their decision once Anakin has demonstrated his commitment to becoming a Jedi and I know he will do that.”  
“You heard them say he has much fear and anger in him.”  
“As would you, if you had been a slave all your life!”  
“I am only concerned for you, Master.”  
“I realise that, and I thank you for it.” Qui-Gon did not want to argue with his dearest colleague.  
“Please be careful.” Obi-wan climbed up the ramp into the ship, seeking warmth.  
Qui-Gon remained outside, looking around for Anakin. He noticed him kicking his feet over at the edge of the platform.  
“Are you alright Anakin?” asked Qui-Gon, coming over and immediately seeing how cold he was.  
“Yes, thank you.”  
“I am sorry that the Jedi Council was unable to see your potential.”  
“It is not your fault,” said Anakin with maturity, “I obviously did not impress them enough.”  
“Well then, we can make sure that you do impress them,” said Qui-Gon kindly. “Technically I am not allowed to train you but that does not mean you cannot observe for yourself. I want you to watch Obi-wan and I and be mindful. Above all, you must learnt to trust your feelings. If you are as strong in the Force as I believe you are, you will find that they will serve you well.”  
“I understand.” He regarded the Jedi as more than a mentor, seeing in him the strength and fortitude that he wished to have. A quiet confidence that only hinted at the depths of his power – even if he could not train him, Qui-Gon would continue to be his inspiration.  
“Go on into the ship, Anakin, you’re freezing,” chided Qui-Gon, pushing him towards the ramp. “I will wait here for the Queen.”  
Just as Anakin had gone into the ship, two transports appeared and landed at the opposite end of the platform, their hatches opening wide. Captain Panaka climbed out, followed by Senator Palpatine, and a large number of troops and guards. They walked briskly towards the ship, flanking Queen Amidala and her three cloaked handmaidens.  
“Your Highness, it is our pleasure to continue to serve and protect you.” Qui-Gon bowed as she approached.  
“We welcome your protection, Master Qui-Gon,” said the Queen gratefully. “We hope it will allay the Senator’s fears for our safety.”  
Swathed in furs, Palpatine looked ill. “Believe me Master Qui-Gon, I do not support the Queen’s return to Naboo. I understand that she wishes to help her people but putting her own safety at risk seems to me to be no help at all.”  
“We understand your concern, Senator,” replied Qui-Gon, taking the Queen’s small, gloved hand in his. “Obi-wan Kenobi and I will do everything in our power to ensure that the Queen is not exposed to any unnecessary danger.”  
“I will feel better knowing she will be safe in your hands,” said Palpatine, bowing sedately. “Please be careful, your Majesty. Our thoughts will be with you.”  
“Thank you Senator. We hope that the outcome of the elections will be in our favour.”  
As the Queen and her entourage ascended into the ship, her retinue folding in behind her, she turned to Qui-Gon. “We are in your hands now, Master Qui-Gon.”  
The Jedi looked critically at the troops following them into the ship. “I will be blunt your Highness. It will take more than this small number of troops to put up any resistance to the CLONE.”  
“This is not our entire force, Master Qui-Gon,” interjected Captain Panaka. “Fortunate for us several systems have sympathised with our plight and lent us the support of their armies.”  
“I see.” It was obvious that the Queen was taking a more aggressive stance towards the CLONE and he wondered how possible it would be to rein her in. “I do not see the wisdom of this move, antagonising the CLONE is not in your, or your peoples’, best interests.”  
“We cannot see what else we can do,” said the Queen assertively. “We refuse to treaty with them, neither will we accept their takeover of our planet. Our own option is to restore our government.”  
“First we have to land on Naboo without the CLONE spotting us,” pointed out the Jedi Master.  
“We have intelligence that the CLONE have removed their ships from orbit of Naboo,” said Captain Panaka as the group entered the main hold, “now that they have completed their invasion. We do not expect to be able to return to Threed immediately, however there are other areas of the planet which will provide a suitable landing place.”  
“Your Majesty, I urge you to think about your actions. You are taking a great risk,” warned Qui-Gon. “My priority is to keep you from unnecessary danger…”  
“It is all a risk,” interrupted the Queen stubbornly, “but one we must take if we are to reverse this intolerable situation. That will be all now, Master Jinn, I wish to retire. Captain Panaka will tell you the details of our plan.” With that she swept out of the hold, leaving Qui-Gon to worry about her increasingly confrontational state of mind.

Threed Palace had changed beyond measure; its fixtures and fittings removed in order to make it a place of war rather than of rule. Droids and troops filled the gloomy corridors rather than Naboo’s gaily-dressed nobles; bulky tanks paraded outside in the courtyards, passing the neglected and algae-filled fountains, the overgrown flowerbeds. The whole place had an atmosphere of doomed grandeur.  
In the wrecked throne room, Nute Gunray, dressed in outrageous purple velvet like the vision of the despotic emperor he aspired to be, examined the reports from the leader of the army. Beside him stood General Grievous, rasping huskily as the damp weather interfered with his breathing equipment. Tied up in the corner was the only surviving remnant of the Governing Council aside from the treacherous Alaric Kassai, Sio Bibble. Forced to watch his colleagues starve and eventually perish, he was still alive but only just. His body and his spirit were broken in his attempt to resist the CLONE but mostly as a consequence of hearing no word from his Queen. Try as he might to retain his optimism he increasingly feared that she was dead and Naboo would be forgotten. Of course the two grasping leaders of the siege only fed on this fear, using it to commit many senseless acts of violence on the cowed population.  
“So the Queen is returning to us?” said Gunray in some surprise, having digested a particularly long and demanding holopad.  
“Yes,” replied Grievous, irritated by the presence of the simpering, and idiotic, Viceroy. “We received word this morning from Coruscant. We have ended the blockade, my Lord, to create a false sense of security for our young ruler. We have the treaty ready for her to sign.”  
“An excellent plan, General,” agreed Gunray with a throaty chuckle. “Hear that Bibble?” called Nute Gunray over to the former Governor. “Your Queen has finally seen sense and is coming back.”  
“No,” whispered Sio Bibble, unsure what to make of the news. Hearing that the Queen was still alive should have filled him with hope. Instead knowing that she was walking into a trap only filled him with horror.  
“Tell me General,” Gunray had made himself unofficial overseer of operations and he relished ordering Grievous about, “Am I safe to assume that the planet is secure?”  
“Yes, my Lord,” stated General Grievous proudly, “as has been reported to you we have subdued the final pockets of resistance.”  
“Excellent, all is going to plan.” Viceroy Gunray looked across to Bibble. “Don’t look so afraid Bibble, as long as your Queen signs our treaty nothing will happen to her. Will it Grievous?”  
“Let us hope that she is more amenable this time,” replied the cyborg ominously, an unnatural light shining in his eyes, “otherwise you will be in the best position, Bibble, to witness her destruction.”

Since the Nubian cruiser had left Coruscant, Anakin had remained in the cockpit, sensing that the Jedi and the Queen had much to discuss. After the disappointment of the Council’s decision, Ric Olie was at least happy to see him, finally having someone to talk to who understood the passion evoked by the roar of an engine. In the main hold, Queen Amidala - feeling refreshed after a few hours of sleep - was deep in discussion with her entourage and the Jedi concerning their plans for taking back Naboo. To both Jedi it became apparent that although neither the Queen nor her security team had any real idea of how they could wrest control from the CLONE, her heart was very much set on it.  
“The moment we land, the CLONE leaders will arrest you and force to sign their treaty like they have the other star systems,” said Qui-Gon patiently, for what felt like the umpteenth time. “With respect your Highness, even with support from other systems I am not sure what we will be able to achieve. The CLONE has a strong military force, as well as being in league with the Hunnites.”  
“We have determination,” said the Queen, single-minded in her desire to reclaim Naboo, “to take back what is ours. The citizens of Naboo will also be willing to take arms against their invaders I am sure of it.”  
“But, your Majesty, Naboo has no weapons.”  
“On the contrary, our weapons will come from the land and from the waters,” said Queen Amidala. Although she was calm, underneath the Jedi could sense a slight tremor to her words as though she was controlling the real force of her feelings. “Master Jedi, we must at least show the CLONE that we are not going to be bullied like the other star systems they have taken. I would never forgive myself.”  
“You are brave, your Highness, and strong leadership can often overcome limited resources. However, we must plan our strategy carefully.” He hoped to keep the actual warfare to a minimum in order to operate within the constraints placed upon them by the Senate and its two hundred thousand clause treaty on how to conduct a campaign of resistance fairly and properly. “I have been considering the history of Naboo and we should try to contact the race known as the Gungans. I know that your people have a history of animosity with them but they would substantially swell your support.”  
“With respect Master Jedi, I very much doubt that the Gungan peoples will want to join with us,” pointed out Captain Panaka. “They are resistant to us being on Naboo and may see the invasion of the CLONE as an opportunity to finally force us out.”  
“What is your mind, your Majesty?” pressed Qui-Gon, hoping the young Queen would be more open-minded than her advisors. “We need all the support we can muster.”  
“We believe it is an idea worth pursuing,” said the Queen unexpectedly, causing her security captain to stare at her in disbelief. “We do not believe the Gungan peoples will find the CLONE’s invasion acceptable, any more than we do! It may be the opportunity we need to join our peoples together in a common cause and undo the centuries of mistrust which have existed between us.”  
“I am pleased that you see the wisdom in this plan, your Highness,” smiled Qui-Gon. “And you put your elders to shame.”  
“Alright, alright,” frowned the Captain, knowing that the Jedi’s words were addressed to him. “But if they refuse to join us…”  
“I know, you reserve the right to say I told you so. It is a risk worth taking.”  
As the plans for Naboo were thrashed out, Qui-Gon remembered Mace Windu’s veiled warning about putting up any resistance towards the CLONE. However, he could not see how else they could resolve the situation. The Queen would act with or without their support and it would be folly to abandon her completely for the sake of the Jedi Order’s reputation.

“The blockade has gone,” said Ric Olie to Obi-wan as he came into the cockpit to check their progress. The cruiser had just having come out of lightspeed, approaching the lush emerald planet of Naboo cautiously.  
“It seems that our intelligence was correct.” Yet the Jedi felt uneasy.  
“The CLONE must believe that there will be no resistance,” said Captain Panaka, feeling more at ease. “The Queen was hoping for such arrogance on their part.”  
“Yes but we must be careful that they are not leading us into a trap.” Obi-wan focused on his discomfort, seeking to contain and understand it. “I’ll go and inform the Queen we are approaching Naboo.”  
“We’re still out of range of their transmitters,” said Ric to Captain Panaka, as Anakin checked the calculations. “But I suggest that we land somewhere quiet.”  
“The east.” It was the most deserted part of Naboo, a haven for wildlife and unlikely to be coveted by the CLONE.

Anakin was heading towards the main hold when a set of doors swished open and a familiar figure emerged. “Padmé!”  
Smiling broadly, Padmé embraced him. “Anakin! I didn’t know you were here. I thought you would still be at the Temple?”  
“I didn’t quite pass the tests,” he said, not afraid to be honest with her. “The Council want me to prove my commitment to becoming a Jedi and since Master Jinn must protect the Queen, well here I am.”  
“So it’s not a no, then?”  
“No. They just want more evidence that I am serious about becoming a Jedi.”  
“I hope you’re not too disappointed?” Padmé could understand if he was, considering the hope that Qui-Gon had shown in him.  
“I’m trying to be optimistic.”  
“Good,” said Padmé, “nice to know that some of my wisdom has rubbed off on you!”  
He laughed appreciatively, “I don’t know what you mean.” As they walked together through the corridor, Anakin asked her how she felt about the imminent confrontation on Naboo.  
“I don’t think the Queen is prepared for how dangerous it will be,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice. “After all Naboo has not had to face a war for thousands of years. We have no memory of how to fight or survive in such a situation.”


	7. Taking Back Naboo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the help of the Jedi, Queen Amidala and her handmaidens seek support from the Gungans to take back their capital.

Early morning mist hung low over the ground affording them some, if temporary, cover from suspicious CLONE eyes. The sleek cruiser stood incongruous amid the murky waters of the swamp where it had landed, bright durasteel mingled with dark, rotting vegetation.  
Extracting an over-clingy piece of weed from his cloak, Obi-wan strolled over to where Qui-Gon was standing a little apart from the hive of activity around the ship. “The Queen has sent a group to find the Gungan capital, Master,” he reported, “Anakin has gone with them.”  
“Has he? That’s good, I expect he was interested in seeing it for himself.”  
“They needed Artoo’s scanners,” added Obi-wan with a grin. “Anakin seems to be the only person who understands that little droid.”  
“I always wonder about that.” Qui-Gon was miles away.  
The two Jedi stood silently for a long while, each lost in their thoughts. It was damp in the swamps and the cold, hanging mist began to creep into their ears and lungs, the wet grass soaking the hems of their cloaks.  
“Do you think this idea will work?” asked Obi-wan eventually. His mind was fixed upon the dangers that lay ahead of them.  
“From what the Captain tells me, the Gungans will not easily be swayed. “Admittedly the two races have been terrible to each other in the past but this invasion may provide a reason to reconcile their differences. Even if they give some limited help, when added to the rest of the military aid we may stand more of a chance.” He smiled, “Anakin will be useful as well. Even if we are not allowed to train him we can find him a purpose."  
“I think he would appreciate that.” Faced with the dignity and firm belief of Qui-Gon, Obi-wan looked at his friend in shame. “I am beginning to see why you hold such high hopes for him, Master. Please forgive my doubts.”  
“There is no need for apologies, Obi-wan.” He smiled, clasping the younger man’s arm, “You see how I have become. I have grown too wayward and stubborn in my thoughts; I can no longer listen to any reason but mine own. Whereas, I foresee a great future for you; you will be bright enough to illuminate the Order, when I shall be left languishing dimly in the shadows.”  
“I do not understand, Master,” said Obi-wan, wondering how Qui-Gon could denigrate his own significant contribution to their sect. At the very least had he not found the Chosen One when all others had failed? “You have always been an inspiration to me and will continue to be. I am very fortunate to have been your pupil and now…”  
“Master Jedi,” Rabé hurried over to them. “Forgive my interruption but the Captain and his team have returned from the Gungan capital. Will you come and listen to their report?”  
“Certainly.” Qui-Gon and Obi-wan followed her over to where Queen Amidala was standing with the two other handmaidens, conferring anxiously in low voices. In the distance could be seen the troops loaned from other systems disembarking from their unmarked ships, their armour likewise anonymous. From now on they had to act quickly; it was likely that the CLONE already knew of their existence.  
“There is nobody in the city, your Highness,” the Captain was telling the Queen. “There are bodies everywhere, it is a terrible sight.”  
“Killed by the CLONE?”  
“It appears so, most were killed by laser blasts and we found the remains of battle droids. If there were any survivors, it is likely they have gone into hiding.”  
Padmé suddenly perked up. “Your Highness, don’t the Gungans retreat to a place of safety when threatened? I remember being told a story about a hidden city in the swamps.”  
“Oh yes, we remember,” replied the Queen brightly. “We shall seek them out.”  
“Do you know where to find this city?” Qui-Gon asked Padmé.  
“No, but Artoo can help us.”  
Artoo Detoo bleeped and whistled cheerily in reply. The Queen and Padmé immediately looked at Anakin for a translation.  
“Artoo is confident he will find them.” He still found it amusing that they found it so difficult to understand the droid; it came as second nature to him.  
“Very well. Padmé, go with the Captain and find this hidden city. We will meet with the Alderaan troops and follow you forthwith.”

The mist remained thick on the swamps even though the sun had risen. It barely penetrated, lending them a deep air of gloom. These swamps were treacherous at the best of times but with poor visibility, progress for Captain Panaka’s small group was necessarily slow. Artoo Detoo however was an intrepid droid and he led the way, his scanner proudly held aloft, searching for signs of life. Padmé and Anakin were right behind Artoo, holding onto each other in anticipation of either of them sinking. Anakin’s miserable expression and damp, mud-soaked pants and tunic already testified to at least one unexpected immersion. An eerie silence surrounded them as they moved through the clinging mist, half-submerged in brackish water where the ground was less firm, tramping through sticky mud the rest of the time.  
Finally, after hours of walking, they reached an area of brushland, indicating more solid ground. But as soon as the small party had extracted themselves from the swamp, Artoo began to hoot and holler in alarm, his little dome spinning in excitement.  
“Someone’s coming,” said Anakin helpfully as the group froze, looking round for the source of the droid’s warning. Before they could even think about hiding, from the bushes leapt a group of fierce-looking warriors, mounted on scaly, twisted creatures. These hissed and snarled at the group as the warriors encircled them, Captain Panaka instinctively reaching for his blaster.  
“Who might you be?” growled the leader in Basic, recognisable by his over-elaborate helmet, decorated with hanging charms and trinkets that on closer inspection turned out to be sharp teeth and tiny bones. Aggressively, he thrust his spear at the Captain.  
“We are from the Naboo,” replied the Captain, slightly intimidated by the spear, “we only…”   
“Do you think we are stupid?” spat the warrior, “it is obvious that you are from the Naboo. But what do you want with us?”  
He bowed politely, “We have come to ask for your help.”  
Frowning, the warrior gestured to his comrades and spoke in a local dialect. “This land is forbidden to the Naboo,” he said eventually, unimpressed by the Captain’s deference. “As the ancient treaty of settlement between our peoples has provided, you will have to explain your transgression to our great leader.” He gestured to one of the mounted warriors, who climbed down from his lizard and began rummaging in his pack. “Secure them.”  
“This is a mistake,” cried the Captain, his voice rising in pitch as the spear moved alarmingly close to his chest, “we only want to…”  
“Silence,” said the warrior, poking him with the spear. That mercifully led to silence from what he regarded as an irritating little man.  
As they roughly tied his hands together, Panaka glanced at Padmé, expecting her to at least put up some spirited defence, but even she was subdued, allowing herself to be tied up along with the rest of them.  
Leaving the swamps, they were force-marched through dense woodland pushing further and further into the trees until they felt quite disorientated. Eventually the warriors dismounted and led the way through a tunnel that had been fashioned out of woven branches. They emerged into a tangled clearing, into the hidden City of Mirthrair. Scattered around it, incongruous amongst the running children and family groups, were the ruins of a once proud city, shattered relics of a glorious civilisation. Sunken into the ground where they had fallen thousands of years before, were massive carved heads of ancient queens and warriors. They cast their benign eyes over the proceedings, seeming to weep long, trailing lengths of vegetation for the trouble that had befallen their planet.  
In amongst the ruins, a spirited discussion could be heard taking place. Padmé perked up immediately as she recognised a couple of the voices. “I can hear the Queen!” she whispered to Anakin next to her.  
“And Qui-Gon,” he whispered back excitedly. “He’s bound to have a plan!”  
Once past the scrubby bushes that obscured their view of the speakers, they saw that the Queen of Naboo was gesticulating animatedly to an exuberant-looking warrior. Dressed from head to toe in some kind of armour pieced together from metal, animal furs and bones, the leader of the Gungans, Tamerlane, was as ornate a spectacle as the Queen in her armoured robes of red shot through with gold. The Gungans communicated with a sophisticated system of signs as well as a spoken language entirely different to that of the Naboo. It necessitated the services of a translator for the Gungan leader spoke only limited Basic and the Queen only knew very limited Mithrian, the Nabooian term for the language of the Gungans.  
“Our illustrious leader wishes to know what this is all about,” remarked the translator Lermur Hundun, gesturing to the new captives being led towards them. An unusual individual he had Naboo heritage yet had been brought up amongst the Gungans after being abandoned by his parents. His adopted family had not only taught him their ways and culture but also ensured – with great difficulty – that he learnt the culture of the Naboo so that he could return to “his” people if he so wished. However, Lermur had never felt the need and he remained with the Gungans. Now his knowledge was invaluable, and the Queen was somewhat distraught that her Council had not told her of his existence previously. “He feels he already has a surfeit of Naboo before him.”  
Bowing low before his leader, the warrior conversed with Tamerlane for a moment.  
“He explains they were trespassing,” explained Lermur helpfully to the Queen, “he caught them trying to infiltrate Gungan territory. Are they people of yours?”  
“They are,” said the Queen, sounding nervous and strained, “but we do not wish ill upon your people, rather we…”  
She was interrupted by the Gungan leader who indicated that he wished Lermur to translate. “Indeed, our leader says that it seems a strange day to find two lots of the Naboo wandering lost in the swamps, yes?”  
“Tell your leader that we were not lost,” Queen Amidala said more assertively. “We came with a purpose.”  
“So you keep telling us,” translated Hundun, as Tamerlane’s expression remained non-committal. “You say you have come for our help? But the people of Naboo would never ask the Gungans for help. We seem to remember that any help we have offered has always been shunned.”  
“That was in the past, your Grace,” insisted the Queen, bowing her head before their leader. “Now we face a common enemy which, unless we unite to defeat, will destroy our planet. Is already destroying our planet.”  
“That is true,” agreed Hundun, as his ruler considered the Queen’s words, “Tamerlane says wisely that we are faced with very difficult decisions to make.”  
“The CLONE are a great threat,” added Qui-Gon, moving forward to flank the Queen and bowing respectfully, “that is why we must try to stop them now before they spread their influence across more of the Galaxy. We must show them that their actions cannot be condoned. My lord, the Jedi would not support Queen Amidala and the Naboo unless we believed that their cause was justified. And, needless to say, the plight of your people is as worthy as that of the Naboo.”  
It took a while for Lermur to express the Jedi’s words adequately to Tamerlane. However the Gungan leader knew the Jedi’s reputation and seemed to relax a little. After conferring with Lermur for a considerable time, the translator turned back to them, “You refer to the warriors that have destroyed the Gungan city? Our leader believes that it is a brave and noble thought to fight them but they are too powerful. He considers it amusing that although we are the warriors and you are the pacifists, it is you who pledge yourself to this course of action.”  
“We have considered it most carefully,” replied Qui-Gon, “and although conflict is not our preferred solution, we can find no other way of achieving our aims.”  
“There are many of them and few of us. We have discussed this for a long time and no solution can we find. If we fight them we will certainly die.”  
“That is why we must join together,” said the Queen, “to fight them together. We have hope.”  
Still the Gungan leader was not convinced and Lermur almost looked apologetic as he translated, “Tamerlane feels that we will need more than hope, my lady.”  
Seeing the Queen’s distress as the argument went back around in circles, Padmé stepped forward. “Your Honour...” she began, “I may only be a handmaiden to the Queen but I can vouch for the truth of her words and the sincerity of her heart.”  
“Why?” demanded the ruler of the Gungans through his translator, “what gives you the authority to speak for your Queen?”  
“My liege, please hear me out. Forced by circumstances, the Naboo elected a young Queen to rule fairly and wisely over her people. Others questioned this practice. Yet it is precisely because we, who serve as the Queen’s loyal handmaidens, act as one mind with the ruling Council we are privy to knowledge far beyond our years. We are her advisors and her representatives when necessity calls us.” Falling to her knees on the wet ground, Padmé prostrated herself before the Gungan leader. “We understand that our people have not always looked fairly upon yours; the legacy of centuries of hostility is our shame to bear. We do not ask for forgiveness, we do not expect forgiveness, only that we can join together to reverse the effects of a conflict that threatens to destroy our planet. We have been given this chance to reconcile our peoples for a noble reason, one which surely transcends all past and present difficulties.”  
Following Padmé’s lead, Queen Amidala dropped to her knees beside her handmaiden during her stirring speech and soon all her entourage did the same.  
Behind them the Jedi too knelt in the wet grass. Obi-wan whispered to Qui-Gon, “Who would have thought that the handmaidens were as one mind with the Queen!”  
“It does not surprise me,” mused Qui-Gon thoughtfully, “though I wonder why Padmé was not elected as Queen, she is exceptional even by the standards of Naboo.”  
“From what the Queen told me,” whispered Obi-wan, as Lermur continued to translate the lengthy speech for his Master, “it does seem that Naboo has many peculiarities in its monarchy.”  
“Is peace your aim?” demanded Lermur of the Queen, after a lengthy and animated discussion with the Gungan leader.  
“Yes, my lord.”  
“Please believe us, our request is not meant to undermine your dignity in any respect,” continued Padmé, continuing to look humbly at the ground. The water from the grass was seeping into her trousers; it was not how she had envisaged convincing the Gungans to join them.   
“Although we have only ever lived in tolerance of each other, great Tamerlane,” said Queen Amidala, finding her voice at last, “our two peoples have never knowingly wished war upon each other. Naboo was peaceful, even if it was an uneasy peace. However if the CLONE has their way there will be no people and no peace. They will destroy all that we know and love of our planet.”   
As the Queen finished, Padmé once again took the initiative. She indicated the trees around them, “You are in hiding, Laguna lost. Our people are being kept in camps or as prisoners in their own homes; Threed is lost. If we do not act quickly, all will be lost forever. We beg you to help us.” Casting her eyes back to the ground, she finished with a solemn appeal, “Your fate, the fate of our people, the fate of Naboo itself, is entirely in your hands.”  
Suddenly there was a peal of laughter, and Padmé looked up to see the leader of the Gungans doubled over with laughter. Looking at Lermur expectantly, her brow was furrowed.  
“Tamerlane finds it very amusing,” he replied, smiling broadly, “that of all the Naboo he has met, and he says he has met many which believed themselves to be wise and solemn counsellors, you two young ladies have spoken the most sense of all.”  
Raising first the young Queen to her feet, then Padmé, Tamerlane indicated for Lermur to translate the following words; “For many centuries our people have been at odds, neither side brave enough to heal the hurts of a thousand generations and put our disagreements to rest. Yet you are brave enough, young Queen and her handmaiden. Yours and our descendants will forever remember your names.”  
“So you will join us?” Queen Amidala held out her small, white hand towards the Gungan leader.  
Bowing to their leader, Hundun translated, “We will seek to aid you in whichever way we can.”  
Relieved, the Queen grasped the hand of Tamerlane, and as the two palms joined it sealed the pact between them, the first time in over a thousand years that the Naboo and the Gungan had united.

Looking at the plan concocted by the Queen’s entourage and the Jedi, Tamerlane was keen to implement some of his own changes, excitedly communicated to them by Lermur, “My liege states that he can certainly provide many troops to assist your army. After the destruction of Laguna we sent most our warriors to the mountains to seek out a suitable place for our people. They can be recalled.”  
“Have the CLONE penetrated as far as the mountains?” Walking with him and the Queen, Padmé opened her eyes in surprise.  
“They have destroyed our settlements my lady,” explained Lermur, “but they have stopped at the mountains. Our people were preparing to travel there and some families have already left. You were very fortunate to have found us here.”  
They reached a large block of stone that lay exposed in the clearing, covered in an assortment of crudely drawn maps and diagrams plotting the intended assault against the CLONE. The two Jedi were conferring intensely with Tamerlane, Captain Panaka and the nominal leader of the military forces but they looked up as the Queen and Padmé approached with Lermur.  
“Have you agreed yet Master Jinn on the division of our forces? The Queen is interested to know the part she is to play.”  
“Yes, please observe.” He turned a vast sheet covered in scribblings towards both young women for their scrutiny. “We think it best to travel across Naboo in several groups. There are likely to be patrols and this way we will draw less attention to ourselves.”  
“Each group will leave at a designated time,” added Obi-wan, showing this on the sheet of paper, “Captain Panaka has volunteered to lead the advance party.”  
“That will give us the opportunity to calculate the distance and report to you the situation in Threed in case we need to amend the plan,” explained Panaka.  
“An excellent idea, Captain,” agreed Padmé readily, “we must ensure that the Queen is well protected. I propose she travels with the Jedi, in case she is captured.”  
“We insist that you go with the Jedi, Padmé,” said Queen Amidala, who was looking less composed than usual, “if you are captured then we will lose far more.”  
“Your Highness, I…” began Padmé, but the Queen silenced her with a hand on her wrist.  
“I may be Queen, Padmé, but you are my mind. This campaign rests on your shoulders more than mine.” Imperiously, she turned to the two Jedi, “I will travel with Captain Panaka and the remainder of our royal security force. Master Qui-Gon I am entrusting you with the care of my handmaiden Padmé.”  
Qui-Gon nodded his assent, “Padmé will be safe with us.”  
“That leaves the third group,” said Obi-wan, looking across to Tamerlane and his translator.  
Here Lermur smiled, “The third group to lead the assault on Threed will be composed of the illustrious Tamerlane and loyal warriors from our great Leader’s personal guard. I think you will find that they will be more than adequate.”  
“Excellent,” replied Qui-Gon, scribbling on the diagram in close, spidery writing. “The fourth group will be the military forces, they can take the open road to Threed from the south.” Qui-Gon finished his writing and looked round at the group clustered around the clearing. It was a motley group of all ages and all abilities, unproved yet as to their capability of withstanding a well-organised and ruthless army. But they had a clear aim that united them, that stirred their passions and gave them the will to succeed against their odds. And for Qui-Gon, although he knew as a Jedi he should shun emotional reactions that could as equally lead to disaster as they could to triumph, that signified hope.


	8. The fight for Theed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The taciturn warrior, Darth Maul, joins General Grievous and Nute Gunray in Theed, whilst Queen Amidala, the Jedi and the Gungan army prepare to storm the city. The battle is fierce and violent with injuries and death on each side, including the Jedi when they face the Sith warrior, Darth Maul.

The mists had burnt away leaving clear sunlight with only a few wispy clouds floating lazily across a perfect blue sky. Through the swamps marched the Gungan army, led by the stern-faced Tamerlane, resplendent on his snarling mount, on their way to join with the other forces descending upon the capital. It had taken the warriors two days forced march to meet up with their leader at Mirthrair but they were showing no signs of tiredness or tension at what lay ahead. For they were taking back their lands from those who had sought to displace them, from those who had killed their people and laid their homes to waste.

General Grievous and the Viceroy stood on the balcony to the east of the Palace, above the great tumbling waterfall that roared and foamed to its rocky depths. To one side was stood Maul, a red-skinned warrior with the characteristic horns of the Zabrak race, covered in obscure markings and facial tattoos. Taciturn and formidable, he seemed more interested at looking out at the magnificent view than deciding tactics with the two leaders of the CLONE.  
“He has been sent to us by my Master,” said Grievous by way of explanation to the curious Viceroy, who found the appearance of Maul slightly distasteful. “He has been tracking the Queen since she first left Naboo.”  
“And now she has returned,” said Maul, his soft, cultured accent greatly at odds with his frightening appearance, not least the sickly yellow, watchful eyes. “But we must be patient and wait for them to make the first move.”  
“The army will find her,” said Nute Gunray, fiddling with one of the buttons on his sumptuous day robe. A patrol had already found her ship in a swamp on the eastern side of the planet. “I’m looking forward to seeing the Queen’s head on display outside the palace.”  
“It seems they have support from other systems,” cautioned Grievous; his mind was on the forthcoming campaign not petty revenge. “There are reports of unmarked ships landing not far from where we found her ship.”  
“This must be the work of the Jedi,” Maul considered, “not the peace-loving Queen. They will seek to take control of the situation.”  
“It would be easier if no Jedi were involved,” complained Nute Gunray, who had been led to expect that invading Naboo would be an easy task; he had certainly did not want any resistance as both Grievous and the mysterious warrior expected.  
“I will deal with the Jedi,” replied Maul solemnly, “those are my orders.”  
“But there might be more than one,” said Gunray anxiously, “it may be too many for you to handle…”  
“It is no matter how many Jedi there are.” The warrior’s voice was suddenly syrupy sweet… and twice as malevolent. “They will not get past me.”  
“I hope not.” Despite his pride, Nute Gunray was terrified of the calm but clearly hostile warrior who had been sent to liaise with him and General Grievous directly from Lord Sidious, the shadowy figure who was the main driving force behind the CLONE. Some part of him wished he had taken retirement and kept away from such dreams of galactic domination that enticed him first to contest the election of Queen Amidala and secondly to become involved with the CLONE. But this part always lost out to the side of his character that was tempted by the idea of ruling the Galaxy so he pushed his anxieties to one side.  
“I tell you, the Jedi are no matter,” continued Maul softly, sensing the Viceroy’s doubt. “Fear will bring them here and fear will be their undoing.”  
Waves of repugnance inflicted Gunray as he saw the stained and blackened teeth, smelt the offensive breath of the warrior. “Excellent, we’ll leave that part of the plan to you, then, Maul.”  
“We will concentrate on convincing the Queen to sign the treaty,” said Grievous, looking over to where Maul was standing.  
“Yes, we need that treaty signed.” said the warrior grimly. “Now, let us proceed with our plans.”

Night in the Naboo woods was frightening for those who had little experience of it. The trees were pressed closely together, tangled and seeming to reach out towards anyone foolish enough to come close. Strange cries echoed through the mess of vegetation and branches, the source of their creation unknown. It certainly made Anakin shiver, despite his determination to not allow his imagination to take over. In order to take his mind from the unknown and the darkness, Anakin asked Padmé to outline the plan for him one more time. She had chided him for not listening but he managed to convince her that it was only to make absolutely certain that he had gotten everything correct.  
“We are creating a diversion,” explained Padmé as they tramped through the leaf mould in front of the two Jedi. The soft light from their lightsabers was just enough to prevent them stumbling over hidden obstacles. “By sending the Gungan and military forces to engage with the CLONE army outside of Threed, hopefully it will be enough to draw them away from the capital whilst we enter it using the secret way.”  
“The secret way…?”  
“Ancient tunnels under the city,” replied Padmé patiently. “The Naboo used them when, I’m ashamed to say, we were at war with the Gungans. Then, as now, we did not have the luxury of peace.”  
Behind them, Qui-Gon smiled at her assessment of peace as a luxury. He was pleased that the advisors to the Queen were under no illusions as to how dangerous a predicament they were in.  
“Do you think the Queen is correct in her thinking that she knows the Palace better than the CLONE?” For Obi-wan, this was the most vague and therefore most difficult part of the plan. “I am sure that its leaders will be well-guarded.”  
“From what the Queen has said,” replied Qui-Gon, “the main difficulty will be getting into the throne room itself. But for me the greatest danger…” Qui-Gon was aware that Padmé and Anakin had stopped their chatter and were probably listening to him, “… is that if the CLONE leaders escape they will return with a greater army.”  
“That is why we cannot fail,” Padmé said firmly.

“Why are the CLONE so insistent on capturing Naboo?” asked Anakin later. They were sat around a small fire, warming themselves against the cold of the night. It had been a long day of marching and all of them were footsore, hungry and desperate for a comfortable bed. Knowing that they only had the leaves and grass for their couch, the stars above their head twinkling through the branches as a coverlet was neither romantic nor a comfort. “You say it is a wealthy planet but surely it is not the only one.”  
“I have been considering this,” replied Qui-Gon, looking at Padmé as he said it, the firelight dancing in his eyes. “I believe it is something to do with Naboo’s position in the Core Territories.”  
“They say they are targeting planets they believe to be vulnerable but Naboo does not fit into that category,” insisted Padmé, drawing her cloak around her more tightly.  
“Not immediately,” replied Qui-Gon, nodding in agreement, “but that is because the reasons the CLONE give are a front for their wider scheme. To establish a rival system of government… and possibly overthrow the Republic.”  
“They have such an aim in mind?” Padmé looked at Qui-Gon in alarm.  
“As yet there is little proof,” agreed Qui-Gon, “but the proliferation of chaos, along with a number of high profile assassinations, certainly appears to be driving the more anxious star systems into their arms.”  
“There seems to be a pattern to their movements,” continued Obi-wan. “The CLONE are targeting particular planets in each system, which they then use as a springboard to subdue surrounding systems. I notice that they have chosen planets which have a high reputation amongst that system often with elected rulers in order to make it appear as though the people invited the CLONE to govern them. In the case of Naboo the CLONE have taken advantage of the disagreement with the Hunnites,” continued Obi-wan, glancing at Padmé, “hoping that the threat of two conflicts would convince you to capitulate.”  
“Hoping other systems would follow by example,” she said, keeping her eyes on the fire, watching the logs hiss and spit as they were eagerly devoured.  
“And with Naboo’s high reputation in the Senate,” nodded Qui-Gon, pleased with the perceptive comments of his former padawan, “this would give the CLONE a huge boost to their campaign.”  
Whilst they were talking about politics, Anakin’s attention had started to wander. Moving closer to the warmth of the flames, he fingered the blaster that Owen had given him. It had been a while since he had used one and he knew he would be rusty but he would not flinch from having to use it… as he stared at the blaster an image flashed into his mind; he could see Padmé, she was struggling and crying out to him, begging him to help her but as he leapt forward with his blaster, he was surrounded by smoke and fire…  
“Anakin?”  
Qui-Gon’s voice jolted him out of his absorbing thoughts, “Um, yes?”  
“Miles away, are you?”  
“Yes. Sorry, Master.”  
“It’s okay.” Smiling to himself, Qui-Gon repeated, “I was asking if when we reach Threed you would prefer to remain with me or go with Obi-wan?” It was essential in order to present a divided front to their opponents and hopefully enable one group to slip past any defences.  
“I would like to stay with you.” Padmé was in the group with Obi-wan but that was a sacrifice he would have to make in order to learn from the older Jedi Master. If the handmaiden was disappointed by his choice, she did not show it.  
“Then it is settled and now I think you two youngsters should get some sleep. We still have a long journey ahead of us and since Obi-wan neglected to bring our rations, we will have to try and find something edible for breakfast.”  
Whilst Obi-wan and Qui-Gon went to survey the surrounding area, Padmé and Anakin attempted to bed themselves down.  
“I can’t wait to get my own bed back,” complained Padmé, struggling to make herself comfortable on the stony, uneven floor of the forest next to the fire. “Anakin?”  
“Yes?” He was piling more logs onto the fire, hoping that it would be enough to sustain it for a few more hours.  
“Where are you sleeping?”  
He saw that Padmé was turned onto her side, looking at him from the depths of her hood. He shrugged, “Close to the fire.”  
“You’ll still get cold.” All he had on was his tunic and pants that he had been wearing since they left Tatooine.  
“I was going to look for some leaves.”  
“Leaves won’t be enough.” She patted the ground beside her, “My cloak’s large enough for both of us.”  
“It’s alright, I’ll...”  
“Don’t be silly”. For all her teasing, Padmé had grown very fond of him. “Come and share my cloak.”  
How could he argue with an order from her? Putting one last log onto the fire, he came and lay down next to her. She shifted so that her thick cloak covered them both but it still meant that they had to lie close together.  
“Come on, don’t be shy,” admonished Padme as he tried to keep a respectable distance. On Naboo it was quite usual for close relationships to exist between friends and Padmé saw no harm in extending Naboo courtesy to Anakin.   
He could hardly believe what was happening when she put her arms around him and pulled him close; he wondered what to do with his arms, wondered how to stop his heart from beating so excitedly. She must have noticed. “Are you sure there’s enough room…?”  
“We’ll be warmer if we huddle,” said Padmé sensibly, too tired to care that Anakin stank of stale swamp mud. “Why? What’s the matter?”  
“Nothing,” he settled against her, gingerly placing his arms about her warm and slender body.  
“Do you have to remind them of my mistake, Master?” grumbled Obi-wan as the two Jedi settled down in the hollow of a tree, close to the fire. Both Jedi were to keep watch between them, snatching only a few hours of sleep each.  
“Sorry, Obi-wan, I couldn’t resist,” replied Qui-Gon wrapping himself up more warmly. Even a Jedi’s cloak was not enough against the bitter breeze that wove its way through the trees.  
A haunting cry echoed through the trees. Obi-wan shivered and moved closer to the fire. “Well, do you wish to keep watch first or shall I?”  
“I was about to ask you the same.”  
“Then I will keep watch first,” volunteered Obi-wan, thinking that a stretch of the legs would help to keep warm. “I’ll wake you in a couple of hours.”  
“Very well,” and Qui-Gon closed his eyes, listening to the soft sounds of the night around him, the breathing of those close to him; the gentle rustling as Obi-wan got up from his position, the slightest crunch of the leaf carpet beneath his feet. And then there were the sounds carried through the woods to him, the stirring of the treetops in the wind, the cry of the unknown creature and its answer from further away. They lulled him to sleep, allowing the dreams inspired by the Force flowing through him to take over all his senses…

Funny. In his dream everyone kept telling him to wake up, but he was already awake and he stared at them, why couldn’t they see his eyes were wide open? Look at them he demanded, pointing to them, but still they kept telling him to…

“Wake up!”  
Jolted out of his reverie, Obi-wan came too with a loud snort of breath, bleary eyes blinking rapidly. Someone was shaking him rather roughly, “What is it?” he mumbled, wondering if they were being called to early meditation.  
“Patrol,” came the whispered reply, “Quick!”  
And it all came flooding back to him. He was not in the Jedi Temple, he was in a cold, dank forest in Naboo. Getting to his feet, Obi-wan saw Qui-Gon waking Padmé and Anakin. Both of them stirred in confusion.  
“We must hide quickly,” whispered Qui-Gon urgently, as Anakin and Padmé stamped out the last remains of the fire. In the distance already they could see the floating beam of a light and hear the sinister rustle of leaves. “Over there!”  
Quickly the small group made their way over to a larger tree that had fallen down recently, perhaps in a gale. Its roots were upended, providing some meagre protection. Without a word, Qui-Gon and Obi-wan pushed the two young people down behind it, covering them both with their bodies, their cloaks enveloping them both in comforting darkness. “Now keep very quiet,” came Qui-Gon’s voice from the nether world. Above them, the two Jedi joined hands to form a protective barrier, channelling the Force to create a blanket of silence around the tree.  
Inside the warmth provided by the two Jedi’s bodies, Padmé groped about, eventually finding Anakin’s fingers. Despite her resolve not to be scared, she was terrified only feeling some relief when she felt Anakin’s warm fingers close around hers. Hand in hand they listened to the steady tramp, tramp, tramp coming towards their hiding place, unable to understand how they could avoid capture. They would be taken to Threed or killed here, their bodies hastily buried in the cold ground…  
They were in the clearing now. Through the Jedi’s cloaks, Anakin could hear unfamiliar voices.  
“Someone has been here.” The speaker had a low monotone for a voice. “They’ve made a fire.”  
“Search the area,” demanded another, more authoritative voice.  
For a while there was nothing but the noise of several individuals covering the area, the sound of scuffling and cursing. Anakin kept so still that he could hear every tiny movement in detail, could hear the heavy rasping breath of the troops as they came close to their hiding place. Holding his breath, he felt his heart hammering so hard in his chest that he did not know how those outside did not hear it. And he could imagine the roasting he’d get from Obi-wan… Master Qui-Gon told you to be quiet, he’d say as they were dragged off in chains to Threed, couldn’t you have kept your heart from beating? If they hadn’t of heard it we wouldn’t have been caught…

“Anakin?” Padmé’s low, soft voice startled him. “Anakin?”  
“What is it? What’s happened?” He kept his eyes firmly closed.  
“It’s okay,” he heard her laugh softly, “they’ve gone.”  
Opening his eyes, it took a moment or two for him to realise that they were not dead or in chains. Instead he was still in the shelter of the fallen tree and Padmé was smiling at him.  
“So you’ve decided to join the world of the living again, eh Anakin?”  
Behind her he could see Obi-wan and Qui-Gon, both of them stood looking at him. It seemed an odd statement.  
“Look at him,” commented Obi-wan, his face stern, “he is oblivious to everything.”  
“Seemingly,” replied Qui-Gon, equally stern.  
“I don’t understand,” Anakin was puzzled. What had he done to upset them?  
“Well Anakin, whilst we were all terrified of being caught, you apparently were sleeping through it all,” said Qui-Gon, this time allowing himself a wry smile. “Like a baby.”  
“Was I?” Anakin felt cramps all over his body; he must have been lying in an odd position. Getting up and stretching, he saw that three pairs of eyes were still looking at him curiously. “What?”

“This is Apprentice to Master. Come in, Master, do you copy?”  
Whilst Obi-wan and Anakin had gone to look for something suitable for breakfast and Qui-Gon was coaxing dry wood into flame, Padmé was trying to contact Captain Panaka on her comlink. The battered communicator had seen better days and it took several tries before she received an answer.  
“Copy, Apprentice.”  
The transmission was poor and Padmé knew she needed to be brief. “Have you reached Threed?”  
“Yes. It’s pretty hopeless here.” Panaka sounded frantic, as though he was looking over his shoulder. “The army has fallen for the trick but there’s still a substantial force left, you must be careful.”  
“We will.”  
There was the sound of an explosion in the background. “We better go, I’ll be in touch.”  
“Over and out.” Turning the comlink off, she looked over to Qui-Gon. “Panaka has reached the capital.”  
“And they have not been captured?”  
“Not yet.”  
Qui-Gon looked more hopeful, “So we’re only a day away.”  
“It sounds like most of the army have left.” Padmé came over to the fire, which had finally decided to accede to the Jedi’s wishes, warming her hands. “I only hope we can do this.”  
“You have many reasons to be cautious, Padmé,” said Qui-Gon quietly, seeing the haunted look in her eyes. “At first, Obi-wan and I believed that taking on the CLONE would be an impossible task. But seeing your determination and the growth in our support, we have a better chance of overcoming the odds stacked against us.”  
“I don’t want to be complacent,” said Padmé; she was grateful for his change of heart, it was not something that many would readily admit to. “Yet you have given me more hope with your words than if we could have all the...”  
There was a rustling in the bushes; both Padmé and Qui-Gon tensed, looking to see who it was. They relaxed as soon as they saw Obi-wan, covered in leaves and twigs, and a grubby-looking Anakin, mud smeared all over his face and clothes, coming back with breakfast.  
“Oooh what have you got?” asked Padmé, going over to look.  
“We found some fruit and nuts.”  
Padmé picked up a small pink globe. “I’m surprised you found these, they’re very nice but a horror to pick.”   
“Tell me about it,” said Anakin, rubbing his arm where a bruise was developing.  
“Don’t look at me,” said Obi-wan briskly. “How was I to know that branch would break? It looked perfectly stable from where I was standing!”

Peering round the corner of a shattered building, Padmé and her three companions surveyed the plaza surrounding the palace. They had made it to Threed as Qui-Gon expected within the next day, arriving in the late evening. Negotiating the tunnels into the heart of the city they had waited until early morning before proceeding to the rendezvous point to meet the rest of the team.  
Faced with the damage done to her beloved city, and the removal of its people, Padmé was even more determined to see an end to the CLONE’s reign of terror. As the small group made their way carefully through the deserted streets, they could clearly see evidence of bombing revealed by the broken buildings, the remains of bodies left where they had fallen. Horrified, Padmé found it difficult to keep the tears from forming in her eyes, reminding herself that she was on a mission: there would be time for sorrow later.  
“Captain Panaka.” Qui-Gon spoke quietly, mindful of the presence of CLONE troops, parading the plaza.  
Looking over to where the Jedi gestured, Padmé could see the other group stealthily approaching the Palace: Captain Panaka and the Queen, the handmaidens Eirtaé and Rabé, a number of guards and Artoo Detoo bringing up the rear. “This is it.”  
“We will be right behind you,” Qui-Gon wondered at the ability of the young girl who had command of her emotions at such a difficult time.  
“Remember to split up as soon as we reach the hangar.”  
“May the Force be with us,” muttered Obi-wan, the tight grip on his lightsaber the only evidence of his nervousness.   
“I hope so.” Looking at her wrist-strap, Padmé saw that it was time. Gesturing to her companions to follow her, she stealthily made her way towards the hangar entrance, heavily guarded by the distinctively dressed troops of the CLONE and several menacing battle droids. In the minds of the small group intent on winning their city back, such droids however were preferable to their humanoid adversaries, as they did not have the same emotional value implicit in their destruction. Whatever articulate droids like Artoo or Threepio hoped, most organics had no qualms about blowing up a machine no matter how intelligent or lifelike it was.  
Once they were a few yards from the entrance, Padmé signalled across the plaza to the second group. They signalled back to say that they would be joining them. Everything was going as planned.  
As they waited for the right moment, Qui-Gon leaned over to Anakin, his eyes never leaving the plaza. “Until we have subdued those troops I want you to stay close to Padmé. Help protect each other. Be prepared to use that blaster your brother gave you.”  
Anakin nodded solemnly. “Yes, Master.”  
“Remember to stay focused. Do not do anything reckless that might jeopardise yours, or Padmé’s safety.”  
“And do not follow anything that Qui-Gon does,” grinned Obi-wan, unable to help overhearing their conversation, “he is apt to disregard his own advice.”  
“Thank you Obi-wan,” said Qui-Gon, looking at his comrade sharply. Sometimes Obi-wan was too serious and other times… well he supposed the mood needed to be lightened a little. “Just be careful.”  
Nodding, Anakin turned back to the inaction in the plaza; the troops had finished parading and most of them had disappeared back to wherever they had come from. Still there was a sizeable presence guarding the palace.   
A tense moment passed… but then they could see that several of the troops from outside the hangar were running towards a commotion at the east side of the plaza, firing their weapons at unseen opponents.   
Seeing their chance, Padmé gestured for the group to follow her. They just made it to the hangar entrance before they were spotted; alarms began to sound, the shrill cacophony assaulting their ears. Immediately Padmé and Anakin dived for cover from the barrage of laser heading towards them, the Jedi remaining steadfast, brandishing their lightsabers as the troops advanced.

“Yes put it there,” said Gunray, sniggering as a huge vidscreen was manoeuvred about the throne room, “we want these two to have a good view of the carnage.” He looked across to where Sio Bibble and Alaric Kassai stood slumped either side of a pillar. The Viceroy had eventually grown bored of the traitor, no longer according him a privileged position but tying him up alongside his former colleague, deciding to kill them both slowly and painfully. Kassai had tried to plead for mercy, offering the Viceroy all kinds of impossible services to prolong the inevitable but after a few days of calculated starvation and humiliation he had not spoken again. Now his beard was matted and filthy, the dried blood caked on his skin. And he knew, like Bibble, that his days were numbered.  
Aides were rushing about, bringing information, shouting orders and directing the troops as Gunray took a seat in front of the screen. The throne room was not a calm, orderly atmosphere conducive to making useful decisions. Aides frequently tripped over the bloated corpses of dead council members and royal guards which lay rotting where they had fallen. The terrible stench and proliferation of hungry insects convinced many of the subordinates that either Grievous and the Viceroy had no sense of smell or no sense of decency (or both) and a feeling of impending mutiny hung in the air. It was not helped by the sudden blaring of the palace's alarm system.  
For a moment, the large screen was blank as a technician struggled to get a signal. Finally, images flickered on the screen; showing frantic activity in the hangar then switching to the empty plaza.  
“Wait a moment,” said Gunray, ignoring the alarm. “Go back to the hangar.” Peering closely at the screen, the Viceroy did not notice as Grievous came to stand behind him.  
“Is that the Queen in the hangar?” rumbled the semi-droid ominously.  
“How did the she get into the city?” The Viceroy, not always a strong character at the best of times, was suddenly in a state of near hysteria.  
“That feeble army of theirs was a diversionary tactic,” decided Grievous, not interested in the Viceroy’s state of panic. He looked across to a second screen showing the battle between the CLONE and the Gungan warriors. From what he could discern, the number of CLONE bodies was significantly less than the number of dead and dying Gungans. “We will recall some of the troops.” He gestured to an aide and repeated the order.  
“General, it will take them at least a day to return,” the aide pointed out but only received an angry cuff around the head for his honesty.  
“I am not interested in your opinion,” scoffed Grievous, stalking back to the vidscreen, “execute the order immediately!”  
“Yes sir,” the aide scuttled back over to the impressive series of monitors that enabled them to direct the battle from the relative luxury of the throne room.  
Maul entered the throne room, summoned by the continuing alarm. He liked to keep away from the cowardly Viceroy, knowing that if he spent too long in his company he would end up throttling him. Sauntering over to the vidscreen, he came to stand by Grievous. “The Queen has reached the capital, yes?”  
If Grievous had had an expressive face he would have regarded the Sith as though he were an irritant, yet the skull like visage was incapable of showing any feeling. “She has my Lord, but I can assure you that we have the situation under control.” Before you go running off to tell your Master, he thought, glaring at the arrogant warrior from within his cavernous eye sockets.  
Maul hissed menacingly. “You have fallen into the Jedi’s trap. Look,” he pointed to the screen which showed the Jedi making light work of the troops sent to engage them in the hangar, “soon they will reach us in here.”  
Blustering, the Viceroy did not take his or the General’s calm assessments well. “What do you mean we have fallen into their trap?”  
“Stop panicking,” commanded Grievous. It was as he suspected all along, the Viceroy of the warlike Hunnites was a cowardly imbecile. “We still have enough troops left here to crush their pathetic diversion.”   
That was not the conclusion he had reached only minutes ago and the Viceroy was stupid enough to want to draw attention to it had Grievous not stepped on his foot as his own diversionary tactic. Whilst the Viceroy squealed in pain, he turned back to Maul, speaking in more obsequious tones, “My Lord…”  
“Never mind, Grievous.” Maul was already heading towards the exit. “It will be as we planned. I will deal with the Jedi, you deal with the Queen.”  
Grievous signalled his aide to send more troops to the hangar, “Double our efforts, send more troops to the hangar.” Before that upstart Maul gets there, he added silently.  
“General it will take some time before we can…”  
“I do not want to hear any more excuses. Do it immediately!” 

In the hangar conditions were reaching critical; as more and more troops poured in it was difficult for the Jedi to do anything more than hold their position. Across from them, Padmé and Anakin were sheltering behind one of the columned roof supports, both of them peeking out with their blasters at intervals to aim at any droids that came within range.   
“We’re wasting time here.” Padmé was impatient to get into the palace. The whole strategy depended on seizing hold of the CLONE leaders and the Palace before the CLONE captured the Queen.  
“The Jedi will clear the way,” insisted Anakin, admiring Qui-Gon and Obi-wan as they effortlessly destroyed the ranks of battle droids streaming into the hangar. Finally the number of troops seemed to peter out and Anakin felt vindicated. “See?”  
Padmé saw their chance. “Come on!” Gesturing for Anakin to follow her, she ran out from behind the column only to collide with one of the last remaining battle droids. Ducking as it tried to grab her, she spun round but was not quick enough and the droid grasped her arm tightly.  
Gasping in pain, Padmé dropped her blaster. “Help!”   
Unable to get a good enough view of the droid from behind the pillar, Anakin launched himself across the floor rolling away just as the droid shot at him.  
“Shoot it!” Kicking and struggling, Padmé could do little now that the droid had turned its attention back to her. She was trapped.  
Anakin hesitated; he didn’t know how he could immobilise the droid without hitting her.  
“Just shoot!”  
Using only instinct as his guide, Anakin took aim and fired. He hardly dared to look.

Across the other side of the hanger, Qui-Gon sliced the head off another droid, the useless body collapsing onto the floor alongside its colleague’s severed limbs. Finally the stream of troops seemed to have run out. Feeling nothing except a grim relief that, for the moment, the fight was over, he ran over to where Anakin was helping a bewildered Padmé up from the ground.  
“Are you alright?” he asked in concern, frowning when he saw Anakin and the blaster, a tangled mass of smoking plastic lying on the ground next to them.  
“Yes.” Padmé nodded, catching her breath with difficulty, “Thanks to Anakin.”  
“I think you’ll be needing this back,” said Anakin, giving Padmé her blaster. “Don’t worry Master,” he continued, seeing Qui-Gon’s quizzical expression, “everything’s under control.”  
“We better wait for Captain Panaka,” panted Obi-wan after running over to join them, “the situation is more dangerous than we thought.”  
All of them agreed. “It won’t be long until they send in more troops,” said Padmé anxiously.  
There was a shout and Captain Panaka rushed into the hangar, followed by the Queen and the handmaidens, Lermur Hundun and a number of Gungan warriors, all brandishing their blasters. The fight outside had already taken its toll and Rabé was already sporting a livid cut to her cheek.  
“Hurry,” urged the Captain, pleased to see that Padmé and the Jedi were unharmed, “reinforcements are on their way!”  
There was a short pause as Queen Amidala attended to the wounded handmaiden, but Rabé convinced her that she could continue. “It is nothing, merely a scratch.”  
Meanwhile, Padmé looked at Qui-Gon. “We must get to the throne room. That’s where the CLONE leaders are likely to be based.”  
“We’ll stick to the plan,” replied the Jedi, looking around at the relatively small offensive they had mustered.  
“Obi-wan, Eirtaé and I will take the main passages to the throne room,” said Padmé quickly.  
“Rabé and I will go with Lermur and take the underground passages to the back staircase,” said Queen Amidala, clasping her handmaiden’s hands tightly. “Remember if any of us are captured, we will assume the other to be Queen.”  
“Yes, your Highness. If all goes well we will meet at the entrance to the throne room,” Padmé replied, presenting a calm front despite her excess of nervous energy.  
“Captain Panaka, Anakin and I will take the route via the powerhouse as agreed,” concluded Qui-Gon. “May the Force be with you.” Despite their spunk, both Padmé and the Queen were painfully young and he wondered if there was not another way… a way that would not place them in danger. Yet they had staked all their hopes on this one tremendous effort.  
And they split up, each group heading their separate way into the palace.

It all happened so quickly that Anakin had barely time to catch his breath. They had been passing quickly through the powerhouse, rows and rows of transmitters either side of them casting a wan light which was just enough to illuminate their way. It seemed that the activities of the CLONE were draining the power in the palace; the lights flickered and spluttered as the power surged and faltered, creating intermittent darkness and bright light. It was in one of these moments of darkness that he managed to find them.  
First the lights went out. For longer this time.  
“Don’t worry,” said the Captain rather loudly, “they’ll come back on in a minute.”  
“Quiet,” cautioned Qui-Gon feeling his way forward. His feeling of discomfort was growing. “Something’s coming,” whispered Anakin to the Jedi Master, feeling a similar disturbance in the atmosphere around them.  
“I think you’re right…”  
Suddenly the lights flickered back on. Right in front of them, blocking their path, stood the mysterious warrior. He was cloaked in black, a pair of luminous yellow eyes staring out at them from the depths of the hood. “You will go no further.”  
As soon as the warrior spoke, Qui-Gon raised his lightsaber. “Run!” he yelled to Anakin and the Captain as bright red light flashed towards him, met immediately with the equally bright blade of green.   
Anakin and Panaka knew better than to argue with a Jedi Master. Immediately, they both turned and ran back towards the entrance of the powerhouse.   
“What if he needs our help?” panted Anakin as he sprinted alongside the Captain.  
“I don’t think we can help,” insisted Panaka, aware of how important the elder Jedi was to the young man but not wishing to get involved in a conflict which he did not understand. “We need Obi-wan.”  
“Get him on the communicator,” said Anakin urgently.  
“I can’t, Qui-Gon’s got it,” said Panaka in dismay; there had not been enough to go around. “We’ll have to find him.”  
Anakin glanced back one last time. In the distance could be seen the two warriors, one sacred, one profane, sparks flying dizzyingly around them as their lightsabers clashed. Silently he prayed to the Force that Qui-Gon could hold back the Sith long enough for them to get help.

In the underground corridors of the Palace, Lermur Hundrun was following closely behind Queen Amidala and Rabé, wondering how they were going to get close to the throne room without being captured. Already they had been engaged in several skirmishes with the CLONE and evidently there was more to come. Every so often they came across patrols suggesting that not only were the CLONE aware of the tunnels, they had enough troops down here to suggest there would be plenty more based in the more important areas of the Palace. He was beginning to feel very nervous about the whole enterprise and wished to the Goddess Marli that he had elected to remain on the battlefield, somewhere he was comfortable not with all this sneaking around.   
Seeing something up ahead, the Queen ducked down. Motioning to Lermur, he crawled over to her. “What is it?”  
“More troops.”  
“They are looking for us,” he whimpered, trying to melt into the wall, “Should we go back?”  
“We can’t go back,” whispered Rabé fiercely, “we have to meet with Padmé, she is expecting our help.”  
Feeling so nervous he thought he might be sick, Lermur nodded. “Right. We’ll take them together.” Turning to the warriors behind them he quickly communicated to them the situation and they nodded in mute understanding. “They are ready,” he said to the two handmaidens.  
Clutching her blaster, Queen Amidala climbed to her feet. “For Naboo,” she cried bravely as she charged towards the troops, her colleagues hard behind her.

“Now they spreading like disease all over the Palace,” growled the General, watching the three screens simultaneously. There were three young ladies who could possibly be the Queen, a guessing game he would enjoy playing.  
“I told you we were not safe here,” babbled the Viceroy from his position beside the General. “We must do something!”  
“I agree. Something must be done.” He grabbed his weapon, a curious looking staff, and without another word, headed towards the throne room entrance.  
“Where are you going?” demanded the Viceroy, tottering along after him and shaking at the thought of being left alone in the throne room. Who would protect him?  
“To find the Queen,” wheezed Grievous, bashing his breathing equipment angrily until the strain on his lungs was eased. He felt that in the circumstances a simple explanation would suffice. If the Viceroy didn’t know where he was going then he was more stupid than he already thought.  
“But shouldn’t we wait until she comes here?” He remembered the words of Maul, more so than the reckless General it seemed.  
“Viceroy, it does not need two of us to wait,” shouting instructions to the army of aides working at the terminals, he stalked out into the corridor. “I will soon have the Queen and then this worthless planet will be ours!”  
Settling back in his chair, ensuring that he had two guards either side of him, Gunray contemplated the words of the General. Trust him to want to steal all the glory, he thought gloomily. If he found the Queen and Maul killed the Jedi then that left him looking very useless indeed. Summoning over one of the aides, he pointed to where a small, red-clad figure was attempting to pick off a battalion of troops in the close, cramped corridor.   
“Send more troops down to sector nine oh seven four,” he said decisively, clapping his hands together, “and don’t let them return until they have found the Queen. Remember we need her alive so no… accidents please.”  
“Yessir, right away sir,” Saluting, Kaye Butu hurried over to the console to put the Viceroy’s demands into action.  
Basking in the incomparable enjoyment of complete control, Gunray returned to his seat with a smile on his face. “This is a fight we can win.”

As Anakin and Panaka raced through the powerhouse they saw the metal door to the hangar in front of them closing.  
“Hurry,” yelled Panaka, seeing that Anakin was lagging behind, “there’s no controls on this side.”  
What kind of stupid doors do they have here? thought Anakin as he struggled to keep up with the Captain. For a moment he lost his concentration and before he knew what was happening he tripped over his own feet, pitching face forwards onto the hard ground.  
“Anakin!” Panaka was in a dilemma, he wanted to help the young man but the door was almost closed, trapping them in the powerhouse. There might not be time to do both.  
“Go on!” yelled Anakin, remaining on the floor. There were scrapes on his knees and elbows, he could feel the familiar burning sensation adding to his other aches and pains. Even if he could get through the door he was in no state to go anywhere until the pain subsided.  
“Don’t be foolish,” Panaka ran back and grabbed Anakin by the arm, hoiking him up and half dragging the slight young man towards the steadily advancing door. “If you think I’m going to leave you here to have a rest whilst I go chasing after Obi-wan you’re surely mistaken…”  
The doors slammed closed with a resounding clang.  
“Dammit!”  
Nursing his wounded elbow, where another purplish bruise was already beginning to darken, Anakin looked at the Captain dismally. “Now what?” Blast, he had hit the ground hard.  
“Don’t worry,” said Panaka, thinking on his feet as always, “there’s more than one way to skin a shaak.”  
Heading back the way they had come, Anakin ran, or rather limped, after the Captain, “What’s a shaak?”  
“It’s an animal,” replied the Captain sharply, not in the mood for chitchat. He was looking for a small access corridor only he could not remember exactly where it was.  
Doing his best to cope with his grumbling body, Anakin gritted his teeth and followed the Captain into passages unknown.

As the Captain and Anakin were trying to get to them, Padmé and Obi-wan had made it into the depths of the rambling palace, leaving a trail of slumped bodies and droid parts in their wake. Yet it was becoming increasingly difficult to advance as the CLONE became alerted to their presence. The passageway they had reached – somewhere on the second floor- was blocked with the largest force they had seen. Obi-wan was not certain he could risk Padmé’s life so recklessly so he had called a retreat, sheltering in the recess of a stairwell whilst they tried to decide the best course of action.  
“We cannot use the corridors,” insisted Obi-wan, who was beginning to feel the strain of almost continual physical exertion as a series of aches that shifted around his body. “They are concentrating their forces against us.”  
“It’s the best way,” argued Padmé, breathless after yet another dash to avoid the CLONE. “If our plan works they will be after the Queen. We can slip past un-noticed.”  
Hearing the sound of troops moving in the distance, Obi-wan dropped his voice to a near whisper. “As I said before I believe that to be a risky strategy. They will still be eager to destroy any threat to their control of the Palace.”  
“Maybe,” she asserted, holding onto her blaster for comfort’s sake. “But we must get to the throne room. We can do nothing until then.”  
“But we cannot make it through these corridors,” argued Obi-wan, “My orders are to protect you from danger, not expose you to it.”  
“Then what do you suggest we do?” asked Padmé irritably. She wished Qui-Gon was with her. She imagined he would be more daring than the inflexible Obi-wan. Yet she was mostly chafing because she knew he was right, it was too dangerous.  
“Perhaps we could use the outside of the building?” ventured Eirtaé, remembering that in times of siege their ancestors had resorted to such a tactic.  
“You mean to climb the walls?” Padmé considered the idea.  
“I think it will be difficult,” frowned Obi-wan. “We would have to be very swift to avoid the troops in the plaza.”  
“The east side of the Palace is over the waterfall,” replied Eirtaé, smiling as she realised her plan was becoming more obtainable by the moment, “they cannot shoot us from there.”  
“Yes but we can fall to our deaths and drown,” challenged Obi-wan, thinking the only good plan was to stay put until Qui-Gon joined them. “I think…” Immediately he tensed, all his senses alerting him to the approach of persons… familiar? “Someone’s coming.”  
As they waited, weapons at the ready, a head of fair, tousled hair could be seen coming up the stairs to the left of their hiding place.  
Padmé immediately recognised who it belonged to. “Look, it’s Anakin,” she whispered to Obi-wan.  
Pleased that the answer to his hopes had arrived, Obi-wan snuck out of the recess to greet his Master. But when he saw only Anakin and Panaka his face fell. “Where’s Qui-Gon?”  
“He’s fighting the Sith,” said Anakin urgently, “he needs your help!”  
“Where are they?”  
“In the powerhouse,” replied Anakin. He gestured back the way he had come, wondering what Obi-wan was waiting for. “You have to help him!”  
It pained Obi-wan to say this but he knew it was right; “I cannot leave, Anakin. Part of the plan is to ensure that at least one of us will be on hand in case the Queen needs our help.”  
“I hope Master Jinn is strong enough to defeat the Sith alone,” frowned Anakin, not expecting this reply from Obi-wan. He thought that the Jedi protected each other in times of danger.  
“I don’t know,” muttered Obi-wan; Anakin did have a point, his Master was not in the best of health.  
“I can take over things here,” said Panaka helpfully, “if you want to help Qui-Gon.”  
“We can also protect ourselves,” remarked Padmé, fingering her blaster.  
Obi-wan faced a dilemma; he knew they were only trying to make it easier for him but it was a difficult choice to make. As much as he wanted to help his friend that would be against his duty. However, if Padmé, as the voice of the Queen, was transferring that duty he could possibly override the command of the Jedi Council. Finally coming to a decision, Obi-wan said; “Very well, Panaka, please try to prevent Padmé from risking her life needlessly. And Eirtaé has a plan I think will be useful.”  
“You can count on me, Master Kenobi,” smiled Panaka.  
As Obi-wan turned to leave he noticed that Anakin seemed to be following him. “You’re not coming with me, it will be far too dangerous...”  
“Yes I am,” insisted Anakin. “I know a short-cut.”  
“Very well,” conceded Obi-wan, knowing that Anakin was as desperate as he to ensure the safety of the elder Jedi. “Show me this short-cut.”  
“Be careful,” called Padmé after them as they disappeared down the stairs. Only Anakin back as he hurried after the Jedi, acknowledging her concern with gratitude in his eyes.  
“Come on,” said Captain Panaka, seeing the look that passed between the two young people and wondering what it meant, “tell me about this plan of yours.”

“What is going on here?” Kaye Butu looked at the report from the battle in concern. It seemed the forces assigned to help the Naboo were holding out longer than they had initially expected. “The Viceroy will not be pleased with this.”  
“Then we must endeavour to keep it from him,” said Yeru at his side, impassively. Switching over to another channel, she glanced at the monitor, “Commander Zandu is requesting additional reinforcements. Shall I accept his request?”  
“We will have to,” said Butu grimly, “relay the request and see how many troops we can afford to muster.”  
Yeru sent the command to the various units around the Palace, including those on the second floor. After a moment, she turned back to Butu. “We have at least three spare battalions not engaged in immediate combat, Sir.”  
“Excellent. Call them back and get the transports ready. We should have more than enough troops left here to deal with the Queen’s petty insurrection. Concentrate all remaining units on capturing the Queen.”  
“Of course, sir.” Not as certain as her commander, Yeru nonetheless did as she was ordered.

“Right,” said Panaka, placing a hand gently on Padmé’s shoulder, “it is time to make our move.”  
They had decided to put Eirtaé’s plan into action. She nodded seeing that the corridor was largely clear. “I wonder where the troops have gone?”  
“Not a question we should be asking,” said Panaka grimly, making sure his blaster was close.  
Using the grand marble columns that lined the main corridor of the palace as cover, Padmé, Panaka and Eirtaé, with the few royal guards they had left, made their way cautiously along the corridor. It was eerily deserted.  
“Maybe we will not need to climb the outside after all,” said Panaka.  
“Maybe,” agreed Padmé, “we better check the next corridor first to see if the lifts are clear.”  
Leading the way, Panaka reached the corner. Brandishing his pistol he peered round cautiously.  
The corridor was not empty. For around the corner was Grievous, accompanied by four menacing looking bodyguards, their vacant expressions and fixed red eyes doubly unnerving, heading towards their position. Although Panaka immediately ducked back down, it was too late. Grievous had spotted him.  
“We have found our insurrectionists,” he growled menacingly, turning on his staff, which crackled with unnatural energy.  
“It’s Grievous!” yelled Panaka, urging his team back down the corridor.  
“And where do you think you’re going, young lady?” asked Grievous when he saw Padmé, unsure whether he had found the Queen or not. She looked about the right age. There was only one way to find out.  
As the General advanced towards her, Padmé and her limited forces scattered, seeking shelter behind the columns. From there they loosed infrequent bursts of laser against the cyborg but he easily deflected them with his staff, determined to grab the young lady before she could escape him. Grabbing a detonator from inside his cloak, he lobbed it towards one of the groups to the opposite side of the corridor, which happened to include Panaka and Eirtaé.  
Across from them Padmé shouted at them to move, but before they could the detonator exploded. With a cry, Eirtaé and Captain Panaka were thrown against the wall with the force of the blast, the rest of the party tumbling to the ground. Glass rained down as the windows shattered on the east side of the building with the force of the impact, covering everything with glittering fragments.  
“No!” cried Padmé, watching in anguish as she huddled between her security guards. Coming to the fore she raised her blaster, anxious to stop the menace that was Grievous from coming any closer. As the guard beside her floored another of Grievous’ bodyguards she aimed for cyborg’s midsection, focusing all her firepower on his chest in the hope of finding a weakness there.  
With a horrifying shriek, Grievous toppled over, collapsing to the floor. Somehow Padme’s shot had found purchase in the sac that hung behind his skeletal hips… the sac that betrayed his organic origins. Damaged, the sac began to leak. Viscous yellow fluid was seeping into his cloak, saturating it within moments. Whether dead or mortally wounded, Grievous made no attempt to get up, his limbs scrabbling uselessly on the hard floor. Satisfied, Padmé turned her attention to his remaining bodyguards.

With a start Panaka came to. Grunting with the effort he picked himself up. The noise of the explosion made his ears ring and he felt the nausea wash over him. He was ready to give up but he knew they were so close. Seeing Padmé as if through a haze, he limped over to where she was attempting to help the wounded Eirtaé to stand. “Are you alright?”  
“Yes,” began Eirtaé bravely.  
“No, you’re not,” said Padmé abruptly, feeling guilt that she had managed to survive when so many of her team were either dead or damaged. “We’ll have to get you somewhere safe.”  
“Nowhere is safe, Padmé,” coughed Eirtaé, a thin line of blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.   
“It will be best if she stays with us,” counselled Panaka, glancing around them frantically.  
“But…”  
“Come on,” he persisted, but tenderly knowing how close the handmaidens were, “we only have one chance at this.”  
“You’re right.” Without further argument, Padmé, the limping Eirtaé and the remaining guards hurried away down the corridor hurried away after him.  
“I suggest we look for the Queen,” continued the Captain, turning to Padmé, “our force is too small to be effective against any troops we meet.”  
“I agree, I’ll find her,” nodded Padmé, reaching into her tunic and retrieving her transmitter.  
By then they were passing Grievous’ slumped form, the seepage of fluid now spreading in a small pool about him. He was completely still, surrounded by the smoking and twisted parts of his former bodyguards.  
“Is he dead?” asked Eirtaé tremulously as she crept past.  
There was no sound coming from the unconscious giant, and Panaka assumed he was, “Let’s not hang around to find out.”  
“Captain, the Queen is in the third floor corridor,” asserted Padmé, looking at the small hologram in her palm. “I suggest we get up there.”

In the deserted corridor amongst the broken glass and broken bodies a leg twitched followed by a bout of agonised coughing as Grievous released the breath that he had been holding. For he had only been playing dead. Despite his pretence he was wounded terribly, with every cough losing more vital fluid. Rolling over onto his back, he ripped off some of his cloak and tied it around his leaking stomach hoping to stem some of the loss. It was inadequate but it would have to do. Climbing painfully to his feet he coughed some more, collapsing again as his equipment sought to compensate for the damage. “Curse this metal body.” His systems were overloading and Grievous knew he had to be careful. The young lady had found his vulnerability and he did not want to stick around only for her to finish him off. He had to move quickly. Still coughing wretchedly, Grievous abandoned all attempt at walking and crawled over towards the stairs, leaving behind a sticky trail of yellow goo.

“There they are!” Padmé saw the Queen, with Rabé and Lermur, engaged in a vicious firefight with a squadron of troops and destroyer droids. Laser had repeatedly singed the window frames and the elegant plasterwork of the ceiling; the Queen crouched behind a makeshift shield torn from one of the wall panels.  
Padmé ran over to her, dodging laser fire. “Your Highness!”  
“Padmé,” the Queen looked relieved to see her, gladly relinquishing her position to Panaka so that she could find out what had happened elsewhere. “How are we doing?”  
“Not very well,” admitted Padmé, ducking down as another series of laser blasts came their way, “Master Qui-Gon was ambushed by a Sith warrior and Obi-wan has gone to help him. General Grievous was killed but we lost half our guards and Eirtaé was injured.”  
“If Grievous was killed then that gives us hope of reaching the throne room,” replied the Queen, “but we must get past these droids first!”  
“My lady,” it was Panaka, gesturing to them, “we’ve cleared the hallway.”  
“Quick, this is our chance,” whispered the Queen, grabbing her blaster.  
With Panaka leading the way, they ran past the scattered remains of droids and headed for the eastern side of the palace.  
“Your Majesty we were thinking…” began Eirtaé, eager to tell her about their plan to scale the walls.  
Suddenly the Queen screamed, falling forwards as laser beams slammed into her back.  
Horrified, Padmé just managed to catch her, both of them collapsing to the floor as Panaka shot dead the perpetrator behind them, a half-dead guard whose dying act had been to bring down the ruler of Naboo.  
“How is she?” Panaka crouched down beside Padmé and Eirtaé who were holding the stricken girl closely, their cheeks wet with tears.  
“Bad,” whispered Padmé, barely able to comprehend what had happened. “Your Majesty, can you hear us?”  
“Padmé,” her voice was so faint that the young handmaiden had to lean close to hear her, “Naboo’s fate… is in your hands.”  
“No, no,” cried Padmé, aware that the Queen’s life was slipping away, “you must live your Highness! You must see this end…”  
But it was too late, Queen Amidala breathed no more. As her dark eyes closed, her head slumped against Padmé’s knees.  
“Padmé, Eirtaé,” advised Panaka, knowing he was about to ask them something terrible, “the Queen is right. It is in our hands now, we must keep going!”  
Neither girl spoke, their bitter tears falling silently upon their sovereign’s painted face, the pale death-ness demanded by custom a cruel truth.  
“Leave her,” he pressed urgently. “We can’t do anything for her now.”  
Finishing her silent prayer to the Queen, Padmé pulled herself together. “You’re right Captain, the time for mourning is later. But we cannot leave her.” Laying the Queen’s still-warm body gently on the ground, she climbed to her feet. “No one must know of this,” she said calmly, “we must hide the Queen otherwise the CLONE will capitalise upon our loss.”  
“Very sensible, my lady,” agreed the Captain readily, marvelling at Padmé’s presence of mind. “We can hide her in the armoury.”  
Together they carried the Queen’s body to the armoury, being careful as royal custom demanded and as their hearts deemed necessary.

Since he had first encountered him, Qui-Gon had been holding his own against the warrior, a being enveloped in a dark energy that seemed to warp and pervert the Force around him. Yet it was not easy; the warrior had been trained in techniques that Qui-Gon had never seen before and his hatred gave him a purpose and determination that forced the Jedi Master repeatedly onto the defensive. It was clear that the Sith desired to kill him. Although he rarely spoke, the few words he did say were filled with anger and loathing for the Jedi.  
The fight had progressed into the furthest depths of the powerhouse to where the glimmering walkways that led to the generators were sectioned off by an energy shield designed to prevent easy access. It was not enough to deter the combatants however and the Sith warrior forced Qui-Gon onto the walkway in order to escape his brutal tactics. Suspended high across the chamber, the walkway took the two warriors close to the power source which served the palace. Cut deep into the rocks below to harness the geothermic energy, the energy from the generators made the chamber suffocatingly hot and filled it with steam.  
“Give up, old man,” snarled the Sith, twirling his lightsaber around his head.  
“Never!” Sweat glistened on Qui-Gon’s forehead, damping his long hair uncomfortably against his neck. He was using only his instincts to fight the devastating blows of the Sith, blocking his peculiar double-ended lightsaber, twisting and turning to avoid its malevolent light. Yet he was tiring, the attack was so relentless, so savage. He had never encountered such a being before; a being so malevolent that even the energy around him was warped and corrupted.   
“You’ll never defeat the Sith,” laughed the warrior, cutting through the sleeve of Qui-Gon’s jerkin, “they are more powerful than you realise.”  
“Not against the power of the Chosen One!” Sensing a competing presence breaking through his concentration, Qui-Gon stumbled allowing the Sith to push hard against him. As he fought to regain his balance, Qui-Gon glanced over towards the entrance at the far end of the walkway believing he felt a familiar presence on the other side of the shimmering haze of the force-field. But there was only time for the briefest consideration before Maul was on him again, cutting and slashing with frightening vigour.  
“The Chosen One? You are mistaken, old man. He will be ours!”

Finally, Padmé and her team reached the long succession of windows that ran along the east side of the palace. It had been left unguarded, troops obviously needed elsewhere, and had not suffered the same destruction as the corridors through which they had travelled.  
Panaka gestured to the window. “Eirtaé, it’s time to put your plan into action.”  
“Let’s hope it works,” grimaced the handmaiden, steeling herself against the forthcoming activity; the pain in her side was growing in virulence.  
“Shield your eyes,” commanded Panaka. As they did so, he blasted the window apart, sending bits of wood, glass and lead spiralling into the air until, their energy spent, they tumbled onto the floor.   
“Nice work.” Removing her arm from her face, Padmé looked at the Captain admirably.  
“Let’s go,” he said, nodding to the troops behind them, “four of you stay here.”  
“Yes sir!”   
Panaka and the two handmaidens led the climb up onto the window frame and then out onto the ledge that ran around the length of the palace walls. Below them was the sheer edge of the cliff that formed the foundations of the palace’s construction. Their eyes and ears were filled with the rushing waters of the raging waterfall that tumbled to tumultuous waters below, warning them of the need to remain absolutely focused on the task ahead.  
“The throne room is right above us,” yelled Panaka to Padmé over the terrific noise.  
With barely enough room to stand, Padmé inched her way carefully along and pulled out a small attachment from her belt. Fitting it to her blaster, she took careful aim and fired at the ledge that ran beneath the next set of windows above them. Thin cables shot out of the blaster, embedding into the ledge. Steeling herself, the Queen began to climb to the floor above followed by Panaka and the guards.   
It was not an easy task. The smooth wall of marble from which the palace was constructed was not suited to climbing.  
There was a tense moment as Padme’s feet slipped and she was thrown against the wall hard.  
Hearing her cry out, Panaka levered himself back down the wall, reaching out towards her, “Here, take my hand.”  
Grasping it thankfully, Padmé allowed the Captain to pull her towards him, holding her until she had recovered from the stumble.  
“It’s nothing,” insisted Padmé, but she was glad for the support. Taking a deep breath she ignored the tears that raced into her eyes and planted her feet firmly back against the wall until they found purchase. As the Captain let go of her, satisfied that she was okay, Padmé recommenced her climb.

“There he is!” shouted Anakin, pointing to the two figures slogging it out on the precarious walkway, trapped behind the shimmering energy field. Even from a distance it was clear that Qui-Gon was tiring; the number of attacks from the dark warrior were far greater than his ability to defend them. Already, blood was trickling down a wound to his arm and his face was singed with laser burns.  
“We must get to him,” frowned Obi-wan, searching for some kind of mechanism to raise or lift the field. The young Jedi was heating up in the tense atmosphere of the powerhouse and he threw off his cloak to help him concentrate.  
“I’ll try that panel.” Anakin gestured towards a control panel on the wall of the corridor, its lights softly bleeping in the near-darkness.  
“Well spotted. You go and open the shield, I’ll wait beside it.”  
Seeing the danger that Qui-Gon was in, Anakin knew he would have to be quick. As Obi-wan sprinted across the walkway, he hurried over to the panel. There was a vast array of buttons, labelled in some unknown code. Closing his eyes, he cleared his mind as Qui-Gon had taught him to, his finger hovering over the buttons…  
Out of the corner of his eye, Qui-Gon saw Obi-wan approaching the energy shield. He felt a thrill of relief run through him; with Obi-wan to help he would be sure to defeat the Sith Lord.  
“I would not be so certain, old man.”  
Obi-wan watched in horror as Maul caught Qui-Gon off guard; he moved quickly towards him and slammed the handle of his lightsaber into Qui-Gon’s chin. Dazed, Qui-Gon stumbled back and tried to lift his lightsaber to block the oncoming weapon but it was too late. Deftly, the Sith ran him through the chest, smiling evilly as the venerable Jedi Master slumped to the floor in a heap of brown robes.  
At the same time as the Sith’s lightsaber found purchase, Anakin’s finger slammed down onto the console. Alarms sounded, indicating that the force-field was about to be raised. Whooping with joy, Anakin turned round, hoping to see Obi-wan and Qui-Gon taking on the Sith warrior together. However what he did see chilled him to the bone: Qui-Gon collapsed to the floor, covered in blood; the Sith laughing triumphantly; and Obi-wan waiting for the force-field to fully open, his lightsaber at the ready.

On the second floor of the palace, a window suddenly blasted apart in the empty hallway, raining fragments of antique glass and wood upon the polished marble floors. After a lull, Padmé, Captain Panaka, and the troops climbed into the hallway, yanking the cables from the ledge outside.  
“Eirtaé, you know what to do,” ordered Padmé, handing her the comlink. “Contact Rabé, get her up here.”  
“Yes, my lady,” taking with her the bulk of the guards, Eirtaé headed away down the corridor.  
Seeing no sign of troops or guards, Padmé and Panaka headed over to the heavily panelled door that led to the throne room.  
Reaching the door first, Padmé hit the controls. To her disappointment they remained steadfastly shut. “They must have changed the code,” she said in exasperation.  
“Lets me see,” said Panaka. Wrenching off the panel, he set about fiddling with the mass of wires inside.  
“I don’t think that will work,” commented Padmé, wondering if her blaster would have more effect.  
“Nobody move!”

The Viceroy had to admit that he was disappointed with the paltry force delivered to him. The Queen was not as they expected with her scrubbed face, close fitting jumpsuit and simply tied dark hair. Aside to Commander Butu he asked, “Are you sure this is the Queen?”  
“She fits all our records,” said Butu confidently. They had run a check on the young lady already.  
“Very well,” Gunray walked over to where Padmé stood defiantly ignoring him. “I think it’s time you gave up this pointless little rebellion, your Highness. It would be much easier if you conceded to our demands. It might save a few of your people as well.”  
“Naboo will not give into your demands, Viceroy,” intoned Padmé firmly.  
“Maybe a demonstration will encourage you?” Turning on his elegant heel, Gunray scanned the room for someone to demonstrate on. Aha. He spied Sio Bibble slumped against the pillar, beside him Alaric Kassai. “What if I told you, your Highness, that we were invited here by one of your own Council?”  
“I would not believe you, Viceroy.”  
“Maybe if he were to tell you himself, would you believe it then?”  
Padmé looked in increasing alarm over to the wretched-looking Bibble and Kassai… surely it could not be either of them?  
Neither Bibble nor Kassai would speak, the days of starvation and suffering had affected them too much. Although guilt afflicted Kassai more than suffering did.  
Turning towards the two men, looking at Kassai in particular, Gunray smiled. “Maybe you would like to explain to her Highness exactly why…” Suddenly the doors to the throne room opened, distracting the Viceroy. “What is it?”  
Standing in the doorway was… another young lady, dressed in a more elaborate and obviously regal outfit, accompanied by a substantial force of security guards and officers.  
Gunray did a double take. “Who are you?”  
“I am Queen Amidala.” The young woman regarded him sternly. “If you think I am signing your treaty then you are very much mistaken.” Raising her blaster, she fired on the guards around Gunray, causing them to scatter.  
“After her!” commanded the Viceroy enthusiastically, convinced they were now after the real Queen. “Send all the troops!”  
“Follow me!” called Butu, leading the battalion out of the throne room after the fleeing Queen.  
Padmé seized the opportunity. “Close the doors!” she yelled, diving for cover as the remaining troops unloaded their weapons, scattering CLONE aides and Naboo alike.  
The doors slammed shut as Panaka reached the controls, wincing as a shot just missed his head. Heck, that was close!  
Grabbing a blaster that scuttled across the floor towards her, Padmé looked round for the Viceroy. Then she spied him, attempting to sneak over to where Bibble and Kassai were cowering. Breaking her cover she dashed over to Gunray and held her blaster to his head. “Call your troops off!”  
Whimpering in fright, Nute Gunray froze, the words sticking in his throat.  
“Call them off, Viceroy!” Padmé glared at him.  
“Throw down your weapons!” The Viceroy’s voice could barely be heard, he was shaking so much.  
Quickly and efficiently, Captain Panaka and the Naboo troops removed the enemy’s blasters, and herded them and the terrified aides, into a manageable group.  
“Now, Viceroy, this is the end of your occupation here,” said Padmé, still training her blaster at him. She was taking no chances.  
For once he kept his peace of mind. “Don't be absurd. There are too few of you and soon we will have your precious Queen. It won't be long before General Grievous will break in here and rescue us.”  
Padmé shook her head. “No Viceroy, you are quite mistaken. The General is dead, and Queen Amidala is not Queen alone. In her absence we are ennobled to act on her behalf” She pulled him to his feet, enjoying the look of surprise on his face.  
“I think you’ll find that we are in charge here now,” smirked Panaka.

As the energy field finally lifted, Obi-wan launched himself at creature that had destroyed his beloved Master. In his rage and despair he was almost beside himself, fighting with an unheard of savageness.  
Maul saw this and bared his disgusting teeth wickedly. “Yes, use your anger against me. See how your hate makes you powerful!”  
Realising his teetering grip on the balance between the forgiving light and the damnation of the dark side, Obi-wan fought to control himself, fought the desire for revenge. Seeing his foe hesitate, Maul went in for the attack, executing a flurry of moves that forced the Jedi to the edge of the walkway. Teetering on the brink, Obi-wan felt his lightsaber slip from his sweat-drenched fingers, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.   
“I have you now.” Grinning evilly, Maul kicked his lightsaber off the walkway; it struck the walkway below before it disappeared, its light finally extinguished as it was swallowed up by the power source below. Then he brutally kicked the Jedi’s legs from under him, causing him to fall backwards off the walkway.  
Flailing with his hands, Obi-wan relaxed and let his mind go blank, trusting his survival to the Force. Somehow one of his hands managed to grab hold of the walkway’s edge and then the other. Before the Sith could react, Obi-wan pushed himself upwards, transferring his momentum into a tremendous swing that propelled him up and onto the walkway proper and over the head of the astonished Maul.  
Landing behind the Sith, Obi-wan knew he would not last long without a weapon. Flinging out his hand, Qui-Gon’s lightsaber rattled and twitched were it lay until, in a blinding flash of light, it flew towards the young Jedi.   
Recovering quickly, Maul spun round to face the Jedi. “You think you can outwit me?” Baring his teeth, the Sith lifted his lightsaber high, determined to finish the struggle in his favour but Obi-wan’s reflexes were faster. Seeing that the dark warrior had over-reached himself, with grim purpose Obi-wan swung his lightsaber in a wide arc catching the warrior across his mid-section. With a guttural cry, Maul’s body spilt into two halves; the top half, still clutching its lightsaber, fell down from the walkway into the depths of the power source below, briefly igniting in a fantastic burst of flame. The bottom section collapsed to the walkway, mercifully covered in the remains of the Sith’s cloak. Disgusted, Obi-wan kicked the remains off the walkway to join the rest of the corpse in its burning grave. Then, breathing heavily, the Jedi fell to the walkway in a state of near physical and emotional collapse.  
“Master Kenobi!” Somehow Anakin was beside him, shaking him, encouraging him to remain conscious. “Master Jinn, he’s still alive!”  
This was all the encouragement that Obi-wan needed. Crawling over to where Qui-Gon lay, he saw that some faint flickers of life remained in his Master. The breath rattled in his throat, his pale skin was tinged with blue; the once curious, restless eyes stared out weakly, already clouding as he took in his last ragged gasps of air. As Anakin watched, Obi-wan held his friend close, feeling the strength ebbing from him with every painful breath.  
“He… has…gone?”  
“Yes.” Obi-wan knew that his Master meant the Sith warrior.  
“Soon I will join him,” whispered Qui-Gon, the pain dulling his senses.  
“No!” cried Obi-wan in anguish. “No, you can’t die!”  
“It is the will of the Force.” Motioning for Anakin to come closer, he took the young man’s hand as he lay in Obi-wan’s arms. “Promise me…” With his last vestiges of strength, Qui-Gon grasped at Obi-wan’s tunic. “Promise me… you'll train Anakin to become a Jedi...”  
Faltering, Obi-wan could feel the tears in his eyes, willing them away. “I promise.”  
Anakin said nothing, his head bowed as he wept silently.  
“He is the Chosen One... he will... bring balance.” And with that, Qui-Gon’s eyes closed, his body relaxing as the Force left him.  
For a moment, Obi-wan cradled his body, forgetting about Anakin, forgetting about the Queen’s mission, quietly weeping for the loss of his beloved friend.  
'Dry your eyes, young one.' The voice came quietly in his head, unrelenting but kind. 'For I, like the Force, will always be with you. Take care of Anakin. He needs you now.'  
Wiping his tears away, Obi-wan pulled himself together. He knew that Qui-Gon was right. He could no more escape the will of the Force than Anakin could escape his destiny. “Come on,” he said to the young man, holding out his hand. “There’s still a war to be won.”

With the Viceroy and the rest of the CLONE leadership subdued, Padmé felt more secure although the battle for Naboo was not over yet. There was still the battle between the Gungans and CLONE army, the whereabouts of the CLONE fleet, the subjugation of Viceroy Gunray and the rounding up of all the CLONE troops to consider. But at the moment she only had a small squad of troops and was loath to risk control of the throne room. So she had to be patient and wait, either for Rabé and Lermur Hundun to return with a larger force or for the Jedi to return. In the meantime she organised sending a message to Coruscant to alert Senator Palpatine to their tentative success, ensured that any communication channels established by the CLONE were monitored and, finally, went to free the remains of the Council.  
Coming over to where Bibble and Kassai were tied together, Padmé surveyed them critically. “The Viceroy claims that one of you betrayed Naboo to the CLONE.”  
Wild-eyed from lack of sleep, Kassai blurted out, “We would never betray the Queen or our people! Who has suggested such travesty?”  
Bibble could only stare as his former colleague in disbelief.  
“I cannot believe it was either of you,” said Padmé wearily. For the moment there could be no assumptions made. Gesturing to Captain Panaka, she continued, “Untie them both.”  
“Padmé,” one of the guards was calling her. “Come and look at this!”  
Going over to where a group of guards were watching the screens closely for movements about the Palace, Padmé looked in askance at them. “What is it, Commander?”  
He pointed to a small pool of fluid in an empty corridor displayed on the screen. “General Grievous has gone, my lady.”  
“So he wasn’t dead?” Padmé said in alarm, “If he escapes he could rendezvous with the CLONE fleet.” If that happened there was nothing she or her troops could do to prevent the complete annihilation of Naboo.  
“We’ll send a patrol out to find him immediately,” reassured the Commander, gesturing to an aide.   
“Make it your priority,” said Padmé firmly.  
There was a sudden shout and explosion from the other side of the room. Spinning round, Padmé saw the body of Alaric Kassai collapsing to the ground, blood pouring from the wound in his head. “What happened?” she asked in horror. “Who did this?”  
“His own hand, my lady,” said Bibble gravely, looking at the emaciated corpse of his former colleague.  
“He was the traitor?” It came to her as a flash of summer lightning over the marshes.  
“Yes,” said Bibble wearily, looking sadly at the remains of his former colleague. “For a long time I knew he had his doubts but I did not think he would go so far as to sell his own people to the CLONE.”  
Padmé’s breathing quickened and she looked at Bibble searchingly. “What doubts were these?”  
“He did not always agree with our support of the reforms, my lady,” replied Bibble, as two guards came to remove the corpse. “He believed they were weakening our position within the Republic. I think he thought the CLONE were acting in the interests of Naboo. He learnt soon enough that they were not.”  
“But why could he not have expressed his opinions openly to us, to the Queen?” The young handmaiden was not complacent enough to believe that their system of rule was not without its flaws but she truly believed that it was undeniably without censorship. All views could be expressed without fear of censure.  
“I suspect he was afraid,” suggested Bibble, going over with her to the window so they could watch the activity outside. The Naboo Royal Guard was rounding up the few troops the leaderless CLONE had left. “His influence was waning, my lady. Your capabilities together were unprecedented.”  
“We wish it had not come to war,” replied Padmé honestly, “it was not something we did willingly.”  
“But in the face of great danger you did what mattered.” Bibble looked at her admirably. “You must not underestimate your strength.”  
“But Master Bibble,” Padmé finally blurted out, “our heart is gone. Queen Amidala is dead.”

Despite his weariness, and with Anakin’s help, Obi-wan managed to carry the body of Qui-Gon away from the powerhouse and back into the palace. He had entrusted Anakin with his Master’s lightsaber, knowing that if there were any CLONE troops left he would not be in the best position to defend them both. But as they moved through the palace corridors they were mostly empty, apart from the sad, mangled corpses slumped here and there. Despite his tiredness, and Anakin’s concern, they kept moving; Qui-Gon was heavy.

A loud knocking at the throne room door startled Padmé, still in deep conversation with Sio Bibble. “Who is it?”  
“It’s Master Kenobi and Anakin.” Captain Panaka was keeping a close eye on the monitor.  
“Let them in.”  
As the doors swung open wide, Padmé hurried over to them. “Anakin, Obi-wan! You’re okay…” She petered out, staring in shock as Obi-wan lowered Qui-Gon’s lifeless and blood-soaked body onto the floor. “What happened?”  
“He was killed by the Sith,” replied Obi-wan calmly; although he still had much sorrow in his heart, he knew that Qui-Gon was at peace. There was no need to mourn his loss.  
“I am sorry.” Her lip trembled. There had been too much death already. “And the Sith?”  
“Master Kenobi killed him,” said Anakin, seeing that Obi-wan’s attention was already elsewhere.  
“What has been happening? I see that you have captured the Viceroy.” The protagonist was huddled in the corner, securely bound.  
“We have control of the palace,” replied Padmé, focusing on specifics. “At the moment our forces are holding out against the CLONE but I’m worried that if Grievous returns with the fleet we won’t stand a chance.”  
“Grievous has escaped?”  
“Yes, he was last seen heading for the hangars.”  
“Then we must go after him,” said Anakin, seeing that there was finally something he could do to contribute to the campaign. “I bet he’s after a ship!”  
“We’ve already sent a patrol after him,” Padmé pointed out.  
“Anakin, where are you going?” demanded Obi-wan, seeing Anakin edging towards the entrance to the throne room.  
“After Grievous!” It was unlikely that any of the Royal Guard would be able to pilot a fighter.  
“I don’t think that is wise,” remarked Obi-wan, as Padmé looked on with concern.  
“If he’s injured, he can’t have got far,” said Anakin persuasively. “Come on, Master Kenobi, we can catch him before he returns with the fleet!”  
Turning, he raced away down the corridor, the handmaiden and Obi-wan staring after him.   
“Will you be safe here?”  
“I’ll be fine,” was all she said.

Finding new energy as he followed Anakin, Obi-wan soon saw that it was clear enough to see the path that Grievous had taken. The trail of yellow slime was smeared along the floor of the corridors close to the throne room, leading them back down towards the hangars. By the time the two reached the gigantic entrance doors, they could hear the engines building up as a ship prepared to leave the hangar.  
“It’s Grievous, he’s escaping!” yelled Anakin, who had caught up with the patrol sent to dispatch the cyborg. Blasters out, they were firing at the ship as it left the hangar but to no avail; the fighter streaked along the hangar floor and, engines roaring, disappeared into the startling blue sky.  
“Blast it,” cursed Obi-wan, watching the fighter disappear, “he got away.”  
“We have to catch him!” Anakin started to climb up the ladder of the nearest fighter cockpit, focused on the thought of saving Naboo from the CLONE fleet.  
Seeing that Anakin was not going to give up, Obi-wan decided to join him. Bounding up the ladder to a nearby fighter he swallowed his anxiety. He was not a big fan of flying, neither was he a confident pilot but he had promised Qui-Gon he would take care of the young man and, in many ways, Anakin’s determination reminded him of the friend he had lost. Strapping himself in, Obi-wan saw that Anakin’s ship was already starting to taxi slowly out of the hangar. Flicking the switches hurriedly, Obi-wan adjusted the helmet. “Anakin can you hear me?”  
“Loud and clear,” came Anakin’s voice over the radio.  
“Wait for me then!” demanded the Jedi as his fighter gathered momentum and left the hangar.  
“Sorry,” said Anakin, slowing down until Obi-wan’s ship was beside his. It also gave him some time to familiarise himself with the controls.  
“I’ll get a trace on Grievous’ ship,” said Obi-wan, pressing switches, “you try and jam his transmission.”  
“Yes, Master.”  
Watching the monitor the Jedi felt relief as the co-ordinates flashed up, transmitting them to Anakin’s ship. “He’s quite a distance but I think we can make it.”  
“Where do you think the fleet is?” Anakin pushed the ship to its limits, hoping to close the gap between them and their fleeing opponent.  
“I don’t know, it cannot be too far away,” said Obi-wan checking the fuel gauge. “I only hope we can reach him before…”  
“There he is!” yelled Anakin, the small fighter suddenly within his sights.  
The two fighters streaked after the third, the surrounding stars a blur. But despite the gap closing, Grievous still had too much of a head start for the tiny engines to catch up.  
“He must be at full throttle,” said Obi-wan, checking his scopes, “we won’t catch him.”  
“We have to try,” insisted Anakin, staring at the elusive flashing light on the monitor before him. “R7 can we go any faster?” From behind him, the little astromech droid bleeped forlornly in the negative. Frowning, Anakin sought to contain his urge to thump the dashboard in frustration. “Isn’t there anything we can do?” Another forlorn bleep.  
The young man unleashed an expletive that made even Obi-wan blush, “Mind your language!”  
“Sorry.” Checking his scanners, Anakin noticed something peculiar, “Wait, he’s slowing down.”  
“What, Grievous?” muttered Obi-wan, feeling sick as his ship rocked in complaint, the circuits overloading. “Look, Anakin, we…”  
“He’s turning round.” The R7 unit bleeped urgently and Anakin’s ship suddenly banked sharply downwards. “Follow me!”  
“What the blazes…?”   
“He’s firing at us,” said Anakin unnecessarily as red flowers blossomed outside his cockpit.   
Obi-wan did as he was told, seeing the red streaks of laser heading straight for him. His stomach hit new levels as the ship was buffeted, the hull straining to control the deadly bolts of energy.  
“Looks like I’ve got a malfunction,” said Obi-wan noting the flashing light on his console. “Power’s surging...”  
“Wait, let me get a shot at him.”  
“I’m going to have to go back,” insisted Obi-wan, continuing to follow Anakin’s lead as they dived and twisted to avoid the deadly bolts. Despite his dislike for sudden movement he had to admit that Anakin was an impressive pilot. “Anakin…?”  
“Wait!” The ship was almost in his sights. “Just a little closer…” The computer bleeped as the ship came in range.   
“… I need to go back and I…”  
He pressed the trigger firmly.  
“…can’t leave you out here alone.”  
There was an explosion of fire that scattered across the hull of their opponent’s ship – and another. But it was not enough to stop Grievous and another burst of fire narrowly missed his tiny fighter.  
“This is getting dangerous,” muttered Obi-wan, seeing that Anakin was determined to ignore him. However, his droid had managed to contain the damage and as long as he did not score any more direct hits, Obi-wan knew he would be okay. “Just do what you have to do and do it quickly!”  
Coming around for another pass, Anakin this time relied purely on his instinct, pressing the trigger when it felt right. And he was to be rewarded this time. The fighter erupted in an explosion of fire and light, the hull spiralling out of control into the endless reaches of space, bits of Grievous undoubtedly spiralling down with them.  
For a moment Obi-wan could only stare in amazement at the empty space where Grievous’ fighter had been. “Well done.”  
Anakin could hardly believe what had happened either. “Lucky, I guess.”  
“We should go back now.” The threat of the CLONE fleet had surely been neutralised  
“Yes, that's a good idea.” The CLONE fleet had not materialised but that did not mean that they were safe. Gracefully, the two fighters looped round in a wide circle and sped back to Naboo.

Once the capture of Viceroy Gunray and the (assumed) desertion of Grievous had been communicated to the CLONE troops, morale collapsed. Most surrendered without further resistance and the droid troops were easily dealt with once their control systems were re-routed. Yet for all the optimism in the capital, it was tinged with great sadness. Disappointed that their victory had come at so great a price, Padmé stood by the window in the throne room, finally allowing her tears to flow unashamedly. Seeing her distress, Sio Bibble came over to her. No matter how many times he told her she did not seem to believe that she had done all she could.  
“You did your duty,” said the Governor of Naboo tenderly, embracing the young woman closely. “We could not have expected anymore from you.”  
“I cannot help but feel that we have failed Governor,” she whispered, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. “We, a peaceful people, had to resort to violence to free ourselves from the CLONE. How many lives were needlessly lost?” She thought of her Queen, of Qui-Gon, even of Kassai. If they had taken another path, might their lives have been saved?  
“You must not punish yourself,” repeated Bibble. “There was no other choice. Had we given into the CLONE we would have lost more than a few lives, we would have lost the entire freedom of our people. We would have become little more than slaves to the CLONE as have other systems.” He rubbed her arm soothingly. “You are brave, Padmé. You fought for your people and you may give others the will to fight for their freedom. Remember that.”  
As he moved away, Padmé remained where she was. In silence, she stood for a long time staring out the window, lost in her thoughts.  
“Padmé?”  
Turning round she saw Anakin, looking at her with that mixture of shyness and admiration she seemed to provoke within him. “We owe you our gratitude,” she said softly.  
“It was nothing,” he said humbly. Her sadness almost overwhelmed him. “You are unhappy.”  
“We won today but at what cost?” Before she could stop herself, she had started to cry again, the terror and confusion of the last hours breaking down her fierce grip on her emotions. Gently he reached out and touched her arm, unsure how to comfort her. Instinctively she buried herself against his shoulder, crying openly, the young woman who felt lost in the face of so much hatred, not understanding why it had happened. “Why must our friends have died?”  
“Master Kenobi says that Qui-Gon is part of the Force now,” he whispered, stroking her hair, “and so is the Queen. The Force is everywhere Padmé. They will always be with us.”  
For a moment she had fancied she heard Qui-Gon speaking. “You better let me go,” she said eventually, once her outburst had subsided, “before those guards start asking awkward questions.”  
“I’m sorry.” He took a step away from her, feeling awkward.  
“Oh no, please don’t think that I am ungrateful.” She smiled gratefully. “I needed that.”  
With a creak, the doors to the throne room swung open and Captain Panaka entered. “There you are, Padmé.” He regarded Anakin with some suspicion as if he had been distracting the handmaiden from more pressing matters. “My lady, the Council has come to the decision that as a result of the sad death of Queen Amidala, you are to take her place as ruler of the Naboo until the people are ready to elect a new ruler.”  
Astounded, Padmé stared at him for a moment, “Captain that is a great honour but I cannot possibly…”  
Kneeling before her, the remaining Council following suit, Panaka held out his hands to the embarrassed handmaiden. “My lady, we are asking that you, who have so often acted as the eyes, ears and voice of the Queen, honour us with your acceptance. We know that Queen Amidala would have wished it.”  
Biting her lip, Padmé nodded. “I accept your decision although I will relinquish the title as soon as new elections can be held.” No one else in the room could imagine any one would be more deserving than Padmé but her reluctance to assume command only endeared them to her more.  
“We have news that the new Supreme Chancellor is in orbit,” said Panaka, thankfully getting to his feet. “He wishes to congratulate you on your victory and is looking forward to meeting you.”  
“As are we looking forward to meeting him,” replied Padmé, eager to discover who had attained the coveted title. Turning to Anakin she smiled, “Come on, I’m sure you want to meet him too.”  
“Your Majesty, I must protest that you cannot meet the Supreme Chancellor dressed as a handmaiden,” added Panaka as they left the throne room together. “It would not be seemly considering your status.”  
“Well, well,” she said archly, turning to the young man beside her. “It seems I have to make myself look more presentable for our illustrious guests. I cannot let Captain Panaka be embarrassed by my appearance,” she added teasingly as she swept past the beleaguered Panaka.  
“Someone has to mention these things,” muttered Panaka as he closed the doors of the vacated throne room, “and these are the thanks I receive.”


	9. Victory and sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naboo is free of the CLONE but the shadow of the Sith looms over the future of the Jedi Order. Before he returns to Coruscant with Obi-wan, Anakin shares a moment with Padme.

Peace was returned and Naboo was free. The threat from the CLONE fleet had not materialised, no doubt helped by the arrival of the Supreme Chancellor in full state with the Republic’s own fleet. General Grievous was dead. The Hunnite threat was subdued, their leader under armed guard. All of the CLONE troops had been rounded up until they could be returned to their home planets, the battle droids dismantled, ready for recycling.  
Under secure guard, Nute Gunray was led out of the Palace. The acting Queen, who had swapped her handmaiden’s cloak for a more ornate, formal gown of embroidered black velvet, went over to him. “Now Viceroy you are going to have to go back to the Senate and explain all this, particularly your link to the CLONE. A link that your Senator Occila has repeatedly denied but we think not, Viceroy.”  
Even with defeat staring him in the face, the Viceroy refused to give in to the young lady. His rampant sense of superiority was still intact. “I can assure you, Queen Amidala, I have enough friends in the Senate to make your attempts to disgrace me worthless. You may have won here, but it is only a small victory. The CLONE will bring the Republic to account for your transgressions.”  
“I very much doubt it, Viceroy,” rejoined Padmé, undaunted by the use of her predecessor’s name. It only seemed right that she should continue to use it. “Soon we will have a new Chancellor who will lead the Republic into a new era.” She turned to Captain Panaka, “Take him away.”  
Captain Panaka and the Naboo guards led the Viceroy and other CLONE prisoners to the waiting Republic cruiser. There was a flurry of excitement surrounding the cruiser for on it was the newly elected Supreme Chancellor, heading down the ramp, flanked by a large number of Republic Guards. Behind him followed Jedi Master Windu and members of the Council, eager to see their colleagues.  
“Congratulations on your election,” said Padmé, approaching the new Chancellor, Sheev Palpatine, the former senator of Naboo.  
Chancellor Palpatine bowed, his pleasure at seeing her alive evident. “It is you who should be congratulated, your Majesty. You have saved Naboo for us and given hope to other systems oppressed by the CLONE.” Kissing both her cheeks, he embraced her fondly. “You cannot know the full extent of my relief. The last few days have been unbearable.”  
“Many times we feared we would not see the end, Chancellor,” she admitted.  
“I am sorry to hear of the passing away of Queen Amidala,” the Chancellor looked at her with real concern, “it seems fitting that you claim her title.”  
“I do not take it lightly, your Grace.” The weight of the recent struggle lay upon the slight young woman’s shoulders.  
“It must have been a trial for you and your forces but believe me, you have won an amazing victory. Your boldness has saved our people.”  
“And your timely election will hopefully secure our continued freedom,” added Padmé as they walked towards the palace together.  
“Indeed. I have pledged that the Senate shall from now on work together with the Jedi and my office to bring peace back to the Republic and prevent the actions of the CLONE from plunging our Galaxy into war.”  
“It is a most noble pledge, one which Naboo will whole-heartedly support.”  
The new Chancellor and the interim Queen walked up the stairs leading into the Palace, deep in conversation.  
Leaving Anakin in the company of the Queen’s handmaidens, the indomitable Eirtaé and Rabé, Obi-wan went over to greet the Jedi Council. “Master Windu, I do not have good news to report.”  
“We have heard what has happened here,” said Mace Windu, his voice tinged with melancholy. “We should talk.”

Although it was early evening, the sun continued to stream its golden light into the plaza, highlighting the two Jedi in its glow. They were walking by one of the many fountains at the front of the palace, the harmonious music of the waters tempering the seriousness of their discussion.  
“I have spoken to Master Yoda of Anakin’s fate. He says that he cannot take Anakin as his pupil,” said Master Windu gravely. They had been discussing for hours who should or should not train Anakin. “He must devote his time to the destiny of the Jedi as an Order, not to an individual.”  
“With respect, Qui-Gon believed him to be the Chosen One. His fate will determine all our fates if he is correct,” pointed out the younger Jedi.  
“I would not be too hasty, Obi-wan,” cautioned Master Windu. “Considering all that has happened on Naboo, Anakin has proved his commitment to be trained as a Jedi. That the Council can agree on. However, his status as the Chosen One is still to be proven.”  
“Master Windu, I must speak honestly. As Qui-Gon was dying he asked me to promise that I would train Anakin to be a Jedi. I could not deny him. Will you give me your blessing to fulfil this promise to my dying Master?”  
Mace fell silent for a moment, then looked at Obi-wan thoughtfully. “Are you certain that you can train him? He has immense power, as you know, but it may not always be possible to rein it in.”  
“I have seen his weaknesses for myself,” Obi-wan readily admitted, “he is apt to be reckless and his emotions tend to cloud his judgement. However, I remember these were the very same weaknesses that Qui-Gon identified in my own character and he trained me to overcome them. With my help, I am certain that I can help Anakin to overcome his flaws and focus on his strengths.”  
“It is an unorthodox approach certainly,” replied Mace Windu with a brief smile, “but then nothing will be orthodox about Anakin Skywalker’s training. You will need to have support from the Council.”  
“Master, with the support of the Council I know I can train him.”  
“Then it shall be so. You will train Anakin with the support of the Council and in full awareness of the extra care that must be taken. If Anakin is as strong in the Force as we believe then he will be a threat to the Sith - they will surely desire his power.”  
“Yes, Master. I am indebted to you and the Council for your faith in me.” Bowing respectfully to the elder Jedi, Obi-wan’s mind was clear of pessimism, open to all possibilities, as he knew Qui-Gon’s mind would have been.

Under darkening skies, they held the funerals of those who had sadly perished in the fight to save Naboo; huge pyres were built in the plaza, the spectators diminished by the towering constructions. As the branches were lit, the survivors of the invasion of Naboo, Queen Amidala, Chancellor Palpatine and Obi-wan, Anakin standing close to him, looked on in reverent silence, each remembering their connection with those they had lost. First the Queen; determined and idealistic like the young women who served her, she had been unwittingly pressed into becoming the saviour of her people, a position she could not have managed alone. Her passing was accompanied with the mournful toil of the bell, the dark satin of her pall quickly withering in the heat of the inferno. Then, committed to the flames were the remains of Qui-Gon Jinn. He had been a compelling individual, often reckless and continually challenging the accepted wisdom of the ancient Jedi code. But none present could deny that he had been a loyal, devoted and powerful warrior. As the beating drums and chiming bells of the Naboo funeral rites died away on the air, doves were released, their purity and flight symbolising their acceptance into the living Force.  
Turning to leave, Obi-wan noticed that Anakin was silently weeping. “Qui-Gon is at one with the Force now,” said Obi-wan softly, “we must let him go.”  
“I’ll miss him.”  
“I know you will,” replied Obi-wan, barely keeping his own emotions in check. “We all will. His spirit and wisdom touched us all.”

Later on they wandered back along the shady arcade leading up to the royal palace, the night sky casting dark shadows across their path. In front of them walked the black satin-clad Queen, leaning on the arm of the Chancellor. Behind them followed the Jedi Council, talking quietly amongst themselves.  
Wondering if it was the right time, Anakin mustered up the courage to talk to Obi-wan regarding his fate. “I expect you will be returning to Coruscant with the Council?”  
“Yes.”  
“Then I’d like to return to Tatooine as soon as possible. Do you think I can get passage from here or will be better to go via Coruscant?”  
“I think Coruscant will be better. But Anakin, I thought you wanted to be trained as a Jedi?” Obi-wan looked at him with amusement.  
“But I thought…” Now Anakin was confused.  
“Although one of the CLONE leaders has been apprehended there is still much to address.” Obi-wan continued, trying very hard not to smile. “I was very much hoping that you would like to be involved in putting the Galaxy to rights. But maybe I was wrong.”  
“I want to,” said Anakin, trying to grasp the underlying meaning in Obi-wan’s words. “But the Council said…”  
“It is very well then,” said Obi-wan before he could finish, deciding he had kept him in suspense long enough, “that the Council has agreed to let me train you. With their support of course.”  
“You will train me to be a Jedi?” Anakin’s head was spinning.  
Awkwardly, Obi-wan put his arm about the young man’s shoulders, “Is it truly what you want?”  
“Yes, more than… more than anything!” Anakin felt giddy; a new opportunity, a new life was opening up for him. “Thank you.”  
“Oh it was little to do with me,” Obi-wan smiled, hoping this would be the beginning of a wonderful new partnership. “I just put a good word in for you. Through your actions you convinced the Council that you are committed to becoming a member of the Order. Qui-Gon would have been very proud of you.”  
In front of them, Count Dooku turned to Mace Windu. “I have spoken to Obi-wan and there is no doubt in his mind. The mysterious warrior was a Sith, although there are few remains of him now to discern much of his heritage.” He sighed heavily, his sorrow evident; “Only a Sith would have the strength to defeat a Jedi such as Qui-Gon.”  
“True and sadly we must prepare ourselves for more conflict,” replied Windu, looking to the sky as the doves flapped about in the cold night air. “For there is always more than one Sith.”  
“The conflict continues,” said Ki ali mundi beside them, rubbing his hands together to ward off the cold. “The CLONE will not take this defeat lightly. They will seek to contest the Queen’s actions here, we cannot believe as the Naboo do that this victory has bought peace. Maybe in their system but not within the Republic.”  
“You are right, learned friend. I sense that this is only the beginning.” Master Windu remembered the prophecy of the Time of Chaos, into which would be brought the finding of the Chosen One. It seemed that such a time was looming upon them.

“Well, Anakin,” said the Queen. “We hear that congratulations are in order.”  
They were walking together in the long corridor that spanned the length of the eastern side of the palace, overlooking the roaring waterfall. A few of the windows were still boarded up from the damage inflicted upon them during the invasion. Chips in the marble columns and scorches on the panelled doors were more reminders of the recent conflict. Behind them, Eirtaé and Rabé kept a respectable distance, their long cloaks casting deep shadows across the floor as the sun slunk low in the sky.  
“Thank you, your Majesty,” said Anakin, having to remind himself that he was addressing Padmé. Adorned in regal splendour - a long white dress framed with feathers, her face hidden beneath the white and red make-up favoured by the monarchy - she was no longer the young woman he had shared so many adventures with. She was as aloof and iconic as the late Queen.  
She laughed at his newfound deference. Despite her better judgement she knew she would miss him. “So, when do you return to Coruscant?”  
“Tomorrow,” said Anakin, smiling with excitement. “I can’t wait to start training.” There would be many new things to learn, and he knew that Obi-wan would be a challenging teacher, but he was looking forward to the challenge.  
“I can understand, though, if you are anxious,” she said perceptively. They had stopped beside the window, the fading light illuminating their skin in its golden hue.  
“I don’t want to let Obi-wan down,” he said, looking at her solemnly. “You’ve seen how the Jedi are, what they are capable of. What if that’s not me? What if I don’t deserve this chance that I’ve been given?”  
Taking his hands in hers, she said earnestly. “It’s okay to have doubts. It’s normal. But believe me, you deserve this chance, Anakin. The Council would not have allowed Obi-wan to train you if they did not have full confidence in your ability. Have faith.”  
“I know.” He smiled at her, feeling some his doubts melt away in the face of her optimism. “It helps that you have faith in me.”  
“I am not sure why. I don’t have to train you.”  
Looking into her dark eyes, he could see something stirring there that went deeper than her words. “But you have already taught me so much.”  
“Good.” She smiled hesitantly, seeing something of the way she felt at that moment reflected in his eyes. “Most of the time I feared that no sense would ever enter that pretty head of yours.”  
At once elated and discouraged by her comment, Anakin could only laugh; “You’d be surprised.”  
“We should go and find Obi-wan,” remarked Padmé, finally letting go of his hands. “He will be wondering where his star pupil has got to.”  
“Before we go...” He reached into his tunic; rooting around for something hidden inside. “I have something for you.” Finally he pulled out a length of thin leather; dangling from it was a small amulet, carved from a small piece of smoky blue stone, tiny characters inscribed delicately into its surface. “My mother gave it to me when I was small but I’d like you to have it.”  
“Anakin…” She did not want to deprive him of a memory of his mother.  
“Please.”  
Accepting the trinket, Padmé looked at the stone for a moment, fancying she saw something of Anakin’s eyes in its colours. She imagined that was why Shmi had been drawn to it too. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”  
“Something to remember me by.”  
“Oh Anakin, I will hardly forget you,” exclaimed Padmé, suddenly overwhelmed by the implication of his words. Impulsively she put her arms about him and embraced him closely, risking that her handmaidens would be discreet enough not to go blabbing to the rest of her entourage.  
“You won’t?”  
“No,” she replied honestly, letting go of him. “We have done so much together, do you think I’m that callous?”  
“I don’t know, there’s lots of attractive young men on Naboo…”  
“Oh Anakin,” Padmé pretended to slap him. “For some strange reason I care about you too much to forget you.”  
His heart leapt happily with the knowledge that she - precious, wonderful Padmé, with her sparkling eyes and wisdom beyond her years – cared about him. Even though the Jedi training demanded many sacrifices, not least that he might never see her again, as they spoke he was certain that he would see her again. Maybe a long time in the future but the certainty was there. And he had learned to trust his instincts; very rarely had they deceived him.  
“It’s also meant to bring you good fortune,” he added, pointing out the runes carved into the amulet’s surface.  
“How appropriate,” replied Padmé, dragging him away from the window. “I will need it to survive the censure I’ll get from Obi-wan if I delay you any further! Come on.”


End file.
